


Flight of a Hawk, Return of a Wolf

by RedHawkeRevolver



Series: Flight of a Hawke [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Anders Cameos, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Because Fenris deserves to be happy, Blackmail and Manipulation, But that's not really what it sounds like, Dreams and The Fade, Evolving Tags, F/M, Fenris kills lots of magisters, Hawke collecting slaves, Hawke helps, M/M and F/F and Rape/non-con alluded to, Mage!Fenris, Magister!Hawke, Malcolm Hawke Cameo, Merrill/Varania, Occasional explicit sex, Romance, Tevinter, but not too much Angst, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-14 07:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 72
Words: 189,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1258807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHawkeRevolver/pseuds/RedHawkeRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke flees the chaos in Kirkwall alone, hunted by Mage and Templar alike. After years on the run, Fenris decides he must seek out and kill his former master to truly be free. The two meet for the first time in Minrathous and are inevitably drawn into each other's lives. Battles shared are battles won.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a complete (and very long) story, but when I was originally posting it, I was clueless and had not yet figured out how to copy documents into AO3 with italics intact. (I have since learned) Also, at the time, I clearly did not know how to spell "Ferelden". Many apologies. Thank you so much for picking up this story, I hope you enjoy! (despite the spelling error and lack of italics) :)

Hawke fled Kirkwall alone. She was too dangerous to put anyone at further risk. She had failed to protect everyone and everything that had ever been dear to her. She hoped that by disappearing alone, she might protect what remained of her friends by simply being absent. She had killed so many trying to be a protector. The Arishok, the First Enchanter, the Knight Commander, Anders...all dead by her hands, by her magic. And what has magic ever touched that it did not spoil, she thought. Yet she could no more be rid of her magic than she could bring all that she had lost back to her.

She looked out across the water and sighed deeply.

"Brooding again sweetling?" Isabela appeared behind her. "You know, you're much prettier when you're not scowling." The pirate winked suggestively. Hawke wasn't really in the mood for flirting. She was grateful to Isabela for giving her safe passage on her ship. She was not grateful for the relentless flirting. Back in Kirkwall was one thing, it was a big city afterall, with enough room for Isabela's large…personality. But in the close quarters of the ship, Hawke was starting to feel very crowded.

"I'll try to save the brooding until we dock then. How long before we arrive?"

"Two days. Are you still sure you don't want to stay aboard and travel with us? The offer still stands Hawke, I owe you that at least." Isabela's tone always lost its swagger when she remembered how Hawke had saved her life.

"Thank you again, but no. It is far too dangerous for you and your crew to keep me around. I'm going to Minrathous to disappear and stay out of trouble for a change. I'll just be one more mage there."

"Yes, but the other mages there aren't quite so self loathing, you know."

"Well, who said I'd want to play with them anyway?" Hawke managed a wink of her own for the pirate.

"Trouble has a way of finding you, Hawke. I'm sure you'll be playing with them in no time. But if I know you, you won't be playing nice."

xxxx

Fenris looked out across the water. In the distance ahead he could just make out the spires of Minrathous. His stomach turned at the sight, and for a brief moment his resolve wavered. The moment passed quickly, because he had already decided he would run no longer. He saw so clearly now that the only path to true freedom was a path spattered with the blood of his former master.

He was fortunate enough to have arranged passage on this ship. He closed his eyes and hung his head back to face the hot Northern sun. The heat, at least, was a welcome change. He had been traveling south all this time thinking to put as much distance as possible between him and this poisonous metropolis. The damp chill of the southern lands had become increasingly difficult to bear while on the run. Unfortunately, the bounty on his head was so high every slaver and hunter from here to the Anderfels thought to try their luck at capturing him, so he was always on the run.

He tried to throw them off his scent in Ferelden. After the blight, there were many places there a fugitive could find anonymity. But along with the devastation of war comes greed, and he once again found himself chased from town to town. When he made it as far as Gwaren, two different groups were pursuing him and they had him effectively cornered. He had not eaten in two days and had not slept in four. In a moment of weakness, a hateful little voice inside of him said, is freedom worth this?

He became enraged at himself for even forming the thought, and that was when he came to the decision to run no longer. He managed to bait one of the groups of hunters into attacking the other and their numbers thinned enough for him to be able to deal with the rest on his own. He took what coin he could off their corpses and that very night he booked passage on this ship sailing north. He would no longer run to be free. He would fight to be free. He would kill to be free. Which left him only one path to follow.

Fenris had spent the entirety of the journey thinking through a plan of action. One did not just stroll into the imperial capital and assassinate a powerful and influential magister. Especially not one who happened to be an escaped slave with a very conspicuous appearance. In the last town they had docked, he managed to find an armorer who was able to modify his armor. As much as he wanted to discard all vestiges of his former life, he reluctantly admitted to himself that it was exceptionally well made and suited his fighting style perfectly. Besides, he could never be rid of the one thing that was the constant reminder of all he wished to forget. The best he could do for now was cover it. The modified armor did just that. The bright lyrium embedded in his skin was now covered from neck to toe, and with a hood to cover his hair and pull low over his head, he could pass for any other mercenary with a sword.

Going unrecognized would be only the first victory, and a small one at that. He hoped that the very fact he was entering the belly of the beast would provide some slight protection. Danarius would not be expecting Fenris to change his strategy from "retreat" to "charge". The arrogant Magister had always thought himself untouchable. A good deal of that reputation, however, was thanks to having Fenris as a bodyguard.

Ironically, those years spent as a bodyguard left Fenris with detailed knowledge of every corner of the city, which would now serve him well. Few slaves saw more than the inside of their master's mansions, so he considered himself lucky in a way. He planned to take a room in one of the inns lining the docks. They were frequented by many foreign swords for hire and soldiers of fortune looking to profit from the sloth of the magisters. From there he would need to acquire as much information as possible on his target. Much time had passed, and Fenris would have to re-learn Danarius' comings and goings. He would have to tread carefully and find an opening somewhere, somehow.

He wondered briefly what it would be like to not have to go this alone. Painfully, he remembered the last souls who had helped him and how they had paid for it. Alone was how it would have to be.

As he disembarked, the sounds and smells of the sprawling docks enveloped him. He stepped into the throng with renewed purpose and thought, let it begin.

xxxx

Hawke was bored. She was terribly, painfully, mind numbingly bored. And hot. She was bored and hot. She hated this city from the moment her toes hit the ground and she hated it more and more as each day passed. The heat seemed to increase with her hatred. Or perhaps it was the other way around. As she lay sprawled upon the bed wearing nothing but her smallclothes, she stared up at the dingy ceiling and nearly felt as if she were evaporating from the heat. She was a Ferelden girl afterall. Even Kirkwall's summers had often been too hot for her comfort. This was beyond what a sane person would consider reasonable.

It was not only the weather that was oppressive. The whole place reeked of oppression. It seemed to her a tangible thing, permeating everything in this Maker-forsaken city. She had taken a room in one of the inns Isabella had recommended to her. It was a place along the docks, whose typical clientele appreciated the fact that they could pay for a room, an ale, and no questions asked. Her first night she decided to take a walk around this part of town to get her bearings and the first thing she saw when she stepped onto the street was a slaver ship unloading its cargo. It sickened her. What sickened her even more, and contributed to the general aura of oppression, was that she couldn't do a damn thing about it. The city itself seemed to know it too, know that it's walls and spires existed to break people, not to be broken. No matter how many Qunari battered it's shores, no matter how many slave rebellions hurled themselves upon its infrastructure, Minrathous still stood as oppressive as ever. Hawke could only remember fondly all the times she had killed slavers in the past and the feeling of righteous satisfaction it had always given her. She would kill to have the feeling of killing a slaver again...

Thus her thoughts circled back to her tremendous boredom. She recalled what Isabela said about her "playing with" the mages here. She had been an apostate for so long, and had been trained so well by her father to conceal and generally get by without her magic, it did not occur to her to so openly be a mage here. Even in Kirkwall she had to walk a fine line. There was also the blood magic. She was neither stupid, nor naive. She knew very well the kind of magic these mages so cavalierly used. If there was one thing she hated as much as slavers it was blood mages. Yet you chose to come to a city controlled by slave-owning maleficarum! Hawke flipped herself onto her stomach and buried her face in the threadbare pillow, letting out an exasperated grunt.

She was clearly not good at inaction. She had fleetingly considered trying to open a clinic to help heal some of the city's poor, but it reminded her too acutely of the friend she had foolishly trusted, which was part of the reason she was here in the first place. Her magic was better suited to destruction than restoration anyway. She considered forgoing a magical endeavor entirely to take on some mercenary jobs, but she wasn't yet sure she could risk being so public. When more time had passed and she was assured no one was looking for her here, she could try. Minrathous was hopefully far enough away to escape the Chantry's notice, and large enough to discourage any rouge mages from the Marches or elsewhere from seeking her out to make some kind of figurehead of her…or try to kill her. She still wasn't sure where her legacy would stand with the mages. Did they support her defiance of Chantry law, or did they consider her a treacherous murderer, having taken the lives of Orsino and Anders?

But that was all the past now, and she must put it behind her. Hawke was never one to look behind. Focus forward and your duty will be clear, her father used to tell her. Focus forward. He had wanted to teach her to keep temptation behind her and focus on her control, because that would serve her best in the end. Focus forward. She still had such a desire to make things right, or at least better, and she wanted so badly to keep "fighting the good fight". And if that desire was born of trying to atone for past failures, then so be it. She knew what she would do.

With renewed purpose, she shot out of bed and dressed. As she did so, she mused that she was perhaps the only mage in Tevinter without robes and a staff. More lessons from her father. No need to advertise, he would say. She had been taught to use magic without the aid of a staff, and she was also taught how to use the daggers she now strapped to her back. No one expects a mage to pull a blade and not slice themselves with it, she heard his voice in her head again and smiled. Before she left her room she looked out the small window and saw the hot sun beginning to set. Some hawks do hunt at night.


	2. Pursuit

Fenris clenched his jaw and ground his teeth in frustration. If he was the paranoid type, and perhaps he was, he would think that Danarius knew of his presence and was actively trying to keep him in the dark. Gossip was the national past time in Tevinter. No detail was too small and no person was too unimportant to escape mention in the busy marketplaces, let alone one of the richest and most powerful magisters in the city. Fenris remembered many times in the past, Danarius had but to stand outside a shop or wave to a passerby and he would learn of the latest scandal or hear some new bit of dirt on a rival.

He had wandered the docks for days, haunting shop stalls, doing odd jobs for coin and attempting to make idle conversation with those who hired him. He hated idle conversation. He had even gone to the slave markets to see if he could catch a glimpse of anyone he remembered associating with Danarius. Not only did he not see anyone of note, but he had to fight the urge to pull his sword and start swinging out of sheer disgust.

Fenris walked quickly down the street, darting in and out of the mobs of people all hurrying home in the quickly fading sunlight. He paused just outside the Sword and Sovereign Inn. This was the third place Fenris had taken a room since he arrived, not wanting to stay in one place too long. He studied the scene outside the inn briefly to assure no one was observing or following him, and he went inside. It was just starting to get busy and there was a comfortable hum of noise; just enough to conceal any private conversations. He found the dwarf he was looking for sitting alone in a corner away from the bar. Fenris slid through the crowd and sat at the dwarf's table.

"You better have something for me today, Corbin. If you can't pay me with any useful information, I'm going to physically shake out whatever coin you have on your person and take that as payment." Fenris spoke in a low threatening growl. He had met the dwarf on board the ship. He asked Fenris to provide "protection services" during a business transaction when they arrived. This meant he was going to sell something stolen and didn't want to get killed over a shady deal in a back alley. Corbin told him he didn't really trust human mercenaries. Plus, he added, Fenris had a very big sword. Fenris agreed on the terms that the dwarf would provide him with any information he could get from loitering around the dwarven merchants guild. A menacing looking elf with a large sword would not go unnoticed there; but it was one of the best places in Minrathous to have a spy. Unfortunately much like his own attempts at reconnaissance, Corbin kept coming up empty.

"No need to get violent Elf, I do have something, but I'm not sure why any of this is of interest to you."

"Just tell me what you know and I'll decide if it is of interest or not" Fenris was getting impatient. He did not want to be seen speaking with any one person too often or for too long.

"I was talking with one of my fences…er, um…associates," Fenris rolled his eyes at that, but the dwarf continued. "and he mentioned buying some merchandise from a slaver ring passing through here from Antiva City. They complained to him that their stock was a little low because they spent some time in Ferelden on a hunting job. They were trying to pull in the bounty for a rich magister's lost property. Apparently the trail went cold, but they were selling off what they had for enough coin to pick up the pursuit again. It was a high bounty they said, enough to make it worth a second attempt. If you're after the same bounty, Elf, I would think about recruiting some partners. High bounty means high risk." Corbin took a long swig of the ale in front of him, all the while eyeing Fenris expectantly, hoping this was enough information to get out of the elf's debt.

Fenris' fists clenched under the table. He fought to control his facial expression as he coolly replied, "If these slavers are still in the city and you can tell me where to find them, we're even".

"I was hoping you'd say that. They've been spending their nights down at the brothel near the foundry district. You know the one, the Iron Lady"

"We're even", Fenris said and he slid his chair back, making to leave, when he hit something behind him. Someone actually.

"Corbin, you rank thief, you owe me five sovereigns…umph!" Fenris had backed his chair over a woman who had suddenly appeared at their table. He artfully slipped to the side avoiding coming into contact with her falling form, and she clumsily toppled over the back of the chair. Fenris spared her only a brief glance before he walked directly out of the tavern, no apologies offered.

xxxx

"Corbin, you rank thief, you own me five sovereigns…umph!" Hawke's feet were pushed out from under her and she fell forward on the offending chair. She noticed she did not fall forward onto its previous occupant. The man who caused her fall maneuvered out of her way just in time, and though they did not touch, they passed so close to each other she was sure she felt something. Or did she smell something? Or taste it in the air around him? She sniffed the air and twisted her head to look at him, but he was already gone. She was left feeling oddly...stimulated.

She righted herself and sat down in front of the dwarf. She was slightly put off. Not only was it rude for him to move and let her fall, but he didn't even apologize. And what was that feeling? Certain spells always left her with a prickly sensation but he certainly did not look like a mage, but then neither did she. She rarely trusted appearances. Still, there was something vaguely tingling of magic left in the space he had occupied. It seemed familiar and foreign at the same time.

"Who was your friend Corbin?" She asked as she reached for the dwarf's ale and took a sip.

"Oh, no one, just another merc looking for work. And I do not owe you five sovereigns. You cheated."

Hawke eyed the dwarf suspiciously. Of course he wouldn't tell her. He owed her coin, not information. Information was always worth more than coin. "We both cheated. I was simply better at it. You should never play cards drunk. No honor among thieves and all that." He reluctantly passed the five sovereigns across the table and Hawke scooped it up with a satisfied smile.

"Do you have another job tonight? You seem to get more work than any of these other sorry sods. Who is hiring you?"

Hawke tried not to sound offended by that last question. He wasn't the first person to underestimate her and he wouldn't be the last. He wouldn't even be the last tonight. Let him think she was doing mercenary work. Let him think she was working in a brothel for all she cared. She just stood, shrugged her shoulders and left him sitting alone with his ale.

She sighed as she stepped outside under the now rapidly darkening sky. It was still humid, the air thick around her, but it was preferable to the daylight hours. She strolled slowly down the street, wondering what trouble she could cause tonight. Hawke smiled to herself as she ran through the list of "jobs" that had kept her busy these past nights. She chose to think of it as community service. On the first evening of her new endeavor, she marched directly down to the slaver ship she had seen her very first night in the city. She was pleased to find it still docked. There was only a skeleton crew on board, and it was a simple thing to sneak aboard and slit each one of their slimy slaver throats. Amazingly, she found quite a bit of the gold they made scattered about the ship. She threw it all in the sea and with an apology whispered to her dead father, she allowed herself a bit of magic, and set the ship on fire. She laughed the whole way back to her bed that night.

Each night since then she managed to find something to do with her time. Frequently it was slaver-killing. Once, as she was wandering down alleys in one of the middle class districts she stumbled upon a small group of mages performing some blood magic ritual. She hadn't bothered to find out what they were doing exactly. She simply killed them, cut the bonds of the two elves cowering in the corner, and left satisfied. It wasn't all killing. She was a civilized, if self-loathing, mage. On a particularly miserable night in the rain, she passed by an elven boy huddled under a shop awning nursing his left arm. She stopped and asked if he needed help. It was clear his arm was broken. She couldn't bring herself to ask how it had happened. She was sure she did not want to know. She simply held her hand out and with a soft whisper of a touch, she healed it for him. Her healing skills were limited, but she could do that much at least. His eyes went wide, too frightened or too surprised to say anything and he just ran off. That had been enough for her that night and she went to bed content.

What will it be tonight, she thought. She kept a leisurely pace and her eyes moved among the people, the ships and the buildings around her. Bits of drunken songs and laughter floated in the air. Up ahead she saw a large group of people surrounding what looked like a street performer. The crowd was thick and blocked the square that cut across the path to the foundry district. She craned her neck to see if the performance would be over soon, but she was too short. Damn tall Northerners. She started skirting around the edge of the crowd to try to get past. She had to climb on and over the pedestal of a statue of some ugly old magister.

As she jumped down, she saw him. It was the man from the Inn. He was a few meters ahead, also trying to weave his way through the crowd. He looked to be about half a head taller than her, must be a northerner, wearing well made black leather armor, gauntlets that covered his fingers and tall black leather boots. Under the cowl he wore, she thought she caught a glimpse of large green eyes reflected in the light of the oil lamps lining the square. He had a massive greatsword strapped to his back. She struggled through the mass of people trying to keep him in sight. He moved like liquid, not at all like your typical greatsword-wielding mercenary. Her curiosity grew with each step and with each step her memory of the odd but not unpleasant sensation he sparked in her grew more vivid. He was heading in the direction of the foundry district and now, so was she.


	3. Discovery

Fenris clung to the shadows in an alley adjacent to the brothel. For the past several hours he watched the patrons come and go. Drunken dock hands, foundry workers covered in soot and the occasional young noble looking to "slum it" for a night all passed by his gaze unaware. He would wait for as long as it took to catch a glimpse of his quarry, but he was growing restless. This was hardly a direct route to Danarius, but if these slavers truly had plans on hunting Fenris they would at least have information on the terms of his bounty. If he could find out where it could be collected, for instance, this would certainly put him on the right path. Danarius wasn't stupid enough to have direct contact with bounty hunters and Fenris wasn't stupid enough to get anywhere near the magister's estate.

He could not know for sure, but he had his suspicions that Danarius was somehow able to track him. Whether it was some effect of the ritual that branded him or if his former master was able to find him in the fade through his nightmares, he did not know. He did know that if he had any hope of surviving an encounter with the blood mage, Fenris had to assure the circumstances in which they next met gave him some kind of advantage. Attacking a viper in his nest was suicide.

Fenris hung his head for a brief moment and ground his teeth together in concentration. Having to constantly conceal the markings in his skin, both literally and figuratively, was testing the depths of his tolerance. Since coming back to Tevinter, this was the longest he had had to actively resist its pull. Every frustration, every painful memory, any stray bit of anger or any other emotion for that matter, had the potential to ignite the lyrium. Succumbing and letting the flames course through him would relieve the constant slow burn of it for a time but, it would also make visible to all what he was. He was fortunate he had not been forced to use its power yet since he returned. He lifted his head and relaxed his jaw. He could bear it for now.

The streets were nearly deserted at this hour and silence had replaced the sounds of nighttime revelry. When he was just about to resign himself to another fruitless endeavor, the door to the brothel opened and three armed and armored humans exited. Fenris stretched his sharp hearing to its limit as he focused his attention on the group. Though he could not understand their words, a familiar prosody and inflection marked them as Antivan. He studied each of them, assuring he would remember every detail about them. Tonight was for observation. He made not a sound as he watched them. He noted the direction they were going and meant to follow them.

Just as they were turning out of his sight, the eyes of one of them slowly met his. Fenris's breath caught in his throat. He knows I'm here…but the realization came too late. He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder from behind and his hood was pulled from his head. Before he could turn on the unexpected attacker or reach for his sword, a searing white hot pain exploded in his chest. He felt his legs crumple and his knees hit the stone of the street. As blackness closed in on his vision, he saw the lyrium flare brightly through his armor.

xxxx

Hawke was getting tired of wandering. She had lost sight of the nimble man hours ago, and yet she continued to comb the streets of the foundry district hoping to come upon him. It made no sense to continue a meaningless search for a random stranger but somehow, every time she thought to abandon this venture her gut twisted and her skin tingled in remembrance of the fleeting sensation back at the inn. What the hell else better do I have to do anyway? She bitterly smiled at what now passed for excitement in her life. She found herself on a stone walkway lined with small merchant stalls all empty for the night. She was able to see down into a small square accessible from a series of enclosed staircases up ahead. All was silent as she continued to walk.

She was about to descend the stairs when a low and agonizing moan severed the silence. Her eyes shot downward to the square and her hands made ready her daggers. She leaned cautiously over the low wall and looked for the source of the painful sound. Maker above, it's him! She saw the familiar form in black armor emerge from the shadow of an alley and collapse to his knees on the ground, his greatsword falling uselessly beside him. The cold tactician in her took over and she surveyed the situation in the span of an eye blink: Two jumps onto the low roof tops to make it down to the square. Four cloaked figures attacking a now unarmed...elf. He's an elf? Unexpected...Two attackers in plate armor under their cloaks and armed with sword and shield. Can't see the sigil on their shields. Two attackers are mages. She felt their magic take root in the air around her and she smelled the blood fueling it. But there's something else. She took the two jumps and landed in the square. One of the mages has their hands on him, kill him first. She flipped one of her daggers in her hand, drew back her arm and flung it at the attacking blood mage. She didn't see the dagger find its mark directly in the maleficar's left eye because the "something else" she felt suddenly filled all of her senses and she was shocked into immobility.

Lyrium. Holy Maker, its lyrium. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide as she stared at the elf on his knees. The light of dozens of intricate lines shone through the black leather armor covering him and she felt what it was before her eyes even registered the sight. He's covered in lyrium...

xxxx

Suddenly, the magic piercing through him receded. He swallowed the remnants of the searing pain and rounded on his attacker. He let the familiar burn of his lyrium flow and focus into his hand. His fist closed around the power channeled there and it found its home inside the chest of the one who had come up behind him. Only when he pulled his hand free did he notice the dagger embedded in the eye of the now twice dead mage.

In one swift movement he picked up his sword with the hand now drenched in his enemy's blood and swung out at a flanking figure closing in on him. He let his lyrium take over and was rewarded with a feeling of sweet release. His heavy blade made contact with a shield and he leaned forward into the blow causing the shield's owner to fall backward with a clatter of metal on stone. With two hands now, Fenris brought the greatsword up and plunged it into the chest of the man on the ground. Sick satisfaction washed over him as he felt his weapon pierce through metal, skin, muscle and bone. Two down, he counted and he freed his sword from the second victim. He made ready to strike out at his next opponent when he saw her.

Several meters away from him, a human woman, slight of build and pale of skin, seemed to dance in the moonlight. She wielded a dagger with deadly effect against another large armored man. She slipped under and away from each swing of the lumbering form's sword. She skillfully separated him from his shield with a quick slice down his arm and another swipe of her blade at his opposite wrist robbed him of his sword as well. Fenris could have sworn he heard lilting laughter when she stabbed her weapon upward into the small slit of unarmored flesh under his chin. She released her blade and jumped backwards avoiding the fountain of blood that spewed forth from the dead man's mouth as he collapsed in front of her.

"Elf! Behind you!" Fenris blinked. The woman was looking at him. At the same time her shouts registered in his mind, he felt his stomach turn at the foul feeling of magic taking form. He turned quickly to see two ethereal Shades manifest behind him. He swung out at them and felt his blade pass through them both in one clean arc. With a loud crack rending the air, they dissolved out of existence. Fenris swung back around, sword at the ready, when he heard a choked cry. The other mage, presumably the one who summoned the Shades, had the woman lifted in the air and was holding her by her throat. Black tendrils of magic swirled around her form as she struggled. Her dagger was missing from her hands as they clawed at the arm of her assailant.

He had no idea who this woman was, but given the choice between a stranger and a blood mage, he chose to aid the stranger and kill the blood mage. He had taken but one step towards the pair when he again was held captive by the woman's actions.

He saw her suddenly go still and as she pulled one of her hands up into the air a single point of light began to grow inside her open palm. The light quickly and brilliantly expanded, enveloping both her and the hooded figure holding her aloft. Fenris felt more than saw the white glow push away the blood mage's dark magic. Just as he thought he must turn away from the brightness stinging his eyes, it seemed to implode in on itself. The hooded mage was thrown backward against the stone wall of a building and then fell to the ground, landing in a lifeless heap of broken bones. Simultaneously, the dark haired woman landed softly on the balls of her feet, and he saw a deadly beautiful smile spread across her face.


	4. Introduction

The night was silent once more. Hawke took a deep and calming breath. The magic inside her was pulsing with the elf's glowing lyrium and she had to focus to settle it. When she was in control again, she looked up at her enigmatic accomplice and offered him a victory smile.

If she expected him to mirror her happy exhilaration she was quickly disavowed of that delusion when his face twisted in hatred and he lunged at her. His greatsword lay forgotten on the ground and he was upon her faster than her mind could process the movement. One hand had her by the throat and the other captured her right arm. She was forced backward off her feet and unceremoniously slammed against a nearby wall. He had her arm pinned above her and the hand at her throat was replaced by his forearm under her chin, his spiked gauntlet cutting into her neck. He pushed himself nearly flush against her and she was trapped between him and the wall.

She couldn't breathe and her head spun. The physical contact with him was overwhelming any ability she might have had to fight back or free herself normally. She dare not use magic despite the burning need she suddenly felt to do so. She fought the furious pull of the lyrium surrounding her. Control, control. She chanted in her head.

"Who are you, mage?" He spit the words at her and they dripped with venom. "Did he send you? Answer me or die!" He relaxed the hand at her neck just enough to allow her to follow his command.

"I wasn't sent by anyone!" she choked out. Her fortitude was beginning to win out over the wild abandon of the lyrium. Her head was rapidly clearing and she was able to clamp down on the magic that, a moment ago, wanted to pour out of her. Unfortunately she was now aware that she was still unable to breathe. "I helped you" she pleaded.

She looked directly into his eyes, large and deep green, just as she thought she had seen earlier in the evening. She tried to convey a calm honesty in her gaze, silently asking him to believe that she had no ill intentions. His face looked conflicted. His lips were pulled into a feral snarl that did not believe her but his deeply furrowed brow seemed to want to give her a chance. She studied his face more. He had a proud looking aquiline nose and angular jaw. Exposed white lines of lyrium snaked up his neck to his chin. White hair fell carelessly around the elegant points of his ears and forward in front of his eyes.

He continued to match her gaze. His arm relaxed another small measure, but he did not release her from the wall. A moment passed in silence and light from the full moons trickled down through passing clouds.

"You are not from here. I recognize you. You are the woman I passed at the inn." He seemed wary, but no longer openly hostile. "Now who are you?"

"My name is Marian," The woman called "Hawke" was a hunted fugitive, and she could no more take a chance on this elf than he could apparently take on her, at least for the present. The woman called "Marian" was an anonymous apostate, and anyone who once called Hawke by that name was long dead. "and, no, I'm not from here. Is this how you thank someone for saving your life in the Imperium?"

He released her and took a step back, but did not step aside. The lyrium in his skin still faintly pulsed with light. He seemed to be satisfied for the moment that she was not going to attack him with a ball of fire or summon a demon. "Your southern accent gives you away. That, and you are very short for a human." His tone was impassive.

Insult to injury then. Fine. "So you trust that the kind hearted apostate who saved you from blood mages means you no harm?" She allowed herself a bit of cattiness in the remark. "And you are very tall for an elf."

"Hmpf" He scoffed, still staring her down. "There are no 'apostates' in Tevinter. As you can see your kind lives unchecked here." He gestured to the dead bodies behind them.

More insults. Yet he was still speaking with her, which was very telling. She was beginning to feel that his curiosity was overcoming his fearful suspicions. She would let the invective pass. "Care to tell me who you are and why I had to murder three people this evening?"

He had the decency to look slightly apologetic. "I do not wish to appear ungrateful. My name is Fenris. I do not know these men but I can assume they were sent to re-capture me.

"Does that make you an escaped criminal or an escaped slave?"

"I am not a slave!" His lyrium pulsed angrily and he took a step forward.

Hawke backed up against the wall again and held up her hands in capitulation. "I meant no offense. I'm Ferelden. Slavery disgusts me as much as blood magic. I helped you. And I'm happy to have done it if these were slavers and blood mages." He took a step back, pulsing light growing less. "Care to tell me about…anything else…?"

He offered another suspicious glare and then lowered his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure I must look strange to you. I owe you thanks. It is not often I have met someone who would help another without thought of gain. I am willing to speak further, but it is nearly dawn and we cannot remain here."

She offered him a warm smile. "Then let's pilfer the bodies and we can go back to the Sword and Sovereign. I have a room there."

"As do I but…" He looked all around them furtively. Hawke saw him fighting between the urge to flee and the urge to join her.

"No one saw our little tussle here. If you put your hood on and we go back together, nothing will seem amiss. Can you…quiet the lyrium down?" She was hesitant to ask it.

"How did you…" Of course he meant to ask how she knew what the substance was but she cut him off with a self deprecating smile.

She gestured to herself as she said "Filthy mage, remember?" He paused and took a breath, then nodded his assent to accompany her back to the inn.

They both moved to collect what they could from their victims. Casually, and before she could stop herself she said "You know, under different circumstances this might have been romantic. A mysterious and handsome elf, pinning me up against a wall under the moonlight…"

xxxx

Fenris stopped, half bent over a dead body, and looked up at her. "I'm...sorry?" He managed to stammer. Did he hear her correctly?

"Too soon for flirtatious teasing? Sorry." She let out a light embarrassed laugh as she continued to search the bodies. Fenris frowned and his eyes followed her. She leaned over the dead mage with a dagger in his eye and a hole in his chest. She retrieved said dagger as casually as if she was lifting a knife from her dinner plate.

His bloodlust for Danarius had caused him to grow reckless and he almost paid dearly for it tonight. Almost, but for this "kind hearted apostate". His frown deepened and he continued to observe her. She was cleaning her blades on the cloak of another one of their victims. The diminutive woman before him seemed equal parts dangerous and ridiculous. He could think of no reason to trust this mage. Yet he told her his name and agreed to follow her. Why? For at least the third time tonight he found himself...curious? Intrigued? Captivated? She walked with an easy smile on her face. As he studied her, he recalled a night in Ferelden when he was able to rest safely and sleep undisturbed by the deep and placid waters of Lake Calenhad. The sensation it gave him was not so much a feeling as it was the absence of his ever present fearful vigilance.

"Fenris, I know this sigil." He was roused from his reverie and he looked at the shield she held up to him. He could not remember ever having seen its like among the noble families in the city.

"This is a foreign crest. How do you know it?"

"I saw it on a...ship...the other night...at the east docks..." She clearly was hiding something. He stood to his full height and took one menacing step forward. So much for trusting a mage.

"Alright, stop! Look, I don't want to lie to you, but I need your word you will keep what I tell you in confidence. Agreed?"

She would accept his word? "Agreed" he said with some disbelief.

He noticed her fine features pull into a guilty looking frown. "I saw this on a slaver ship. When I first arrived here not too long ago I saw them unloading a shipment of slaves. The other night, I snuck aboard and killed several of the crew left to tend the ship. I remember seeing this sigil on a small chest that held some of their ill gotten gold..."

She was still holding something back. "And...?" He urged her on impatiently.

"And I threw the chest in the sea and set the ship on fire."

"That was you?" Fenris had watched that ship burn from a nearby rooftop. He remembered allowing himself an unabashed grin as people scurried about trying to put out the fire and salvage the slaver ship to no avail. One less stain in the world, he had thought to himself at the time, and she was responsible. He was incredulous. "What would possess you to do such a thing?"

"In order of import: Slavery is wrong. This city needs cleaning up. I was bored." She said defensively, itemizing the list on her fingers. "Look, I did not exactly come to Minrathous entirely by choice. I'm running from my own demons if you must know. No mage puns intended." Her eyes narrowed at him. "But since I'm here, I thought I would make the best of it."

He studied the woman and the shield. The woman remained an enigma. The shield very obviously represented a conspiracy against him. The group that attacked them, the Ativans from the brothel and, as always at the top, his former master. It was possible the seedy dwarf was also involved. He was the one who tipped him off to this location in the first place.

He would hunt them all down. But the dwarf had made a valid point. A dangerous hunt required a partner. Before he had time to regret it, Fenris said "Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other."


	5. Search

Their walk back to the inn was blessedly uneventful. Fenris hid his face under his hood, kept his head down and followed a little behind the woman, Marian. He silently cursed the irony of once again walking the streets of Minrathous with his head bowed following obediently behind a mage. This is not Danarius and I am a free man, he kept repeating to himself. As much as he knew this to be true, he also knew how dangerously simple it was to fall back into old slave habits. I will take from this woman what I need, use her as I must and be done with her, he added to his chant.

He was still amazed he had allowed himself to continue this involvement with her at all. He felt like he was walking along a knife's edge; on one side was his profound distrust of anyone, let alone a mage, and on the other side was his morbid fascination with her. This staff-less mage who used daggers before magic. This foreigner who murdered slavers simply because they ran contrary to her morals. This woman who burned ships into the sea in a fit of ennui. Fenris' thoughts swayed back and forth between his conflicting emotions as they walked. It took him completely by surprise when he realized that as his mind struggled, his eyes were unconsciously swaying back and forth with the motion of her hips in front of him.

Keen observation was a skill on which he prided himself and one that had kept him alive more times than his greatsword and his lyrium fueled fists combined. But he could not reason how it would keep him alive to notice the sway of her hips, or the black sheen of her hair in the dawn sun contrasted against her pale skin, or the lithe way her legs moved inside the supple leather she wore...

"Is that alright with you Fenris?"

Had she been speaking to him? "I'm sorry, I did not hear you. What did you say?" They had reached the inn and were standing in the doorway. The sun had brilliantly risen and salt air wafted in his nose with the breeze.

"I thought elves were supposed to have good hearing."

She smirked and raised a single eyebrow at him.

He narrowed his eyes and scowled at her.

She continued. "I was saying that rather than you simply going back to your room to go about your business, we should take some precautions in case someone comes looking for you here. I have an arrangement of sorts with the innkeeper. Let me speak with him. Is that alright with you?"

"Yes, fine let's just be quick about it and get inside before someone notices us." He waved her on impatiently and followed her inside.

The light in the main room was dim with only a few streaks entering from the shuttered windows. A young girl swept the floor and the innkeeper was working in his books at the bar. Marian walked confidently up to him and produced a small bag of coin from somewhere on her person. Fenris could not possibly imagine where it had come from. There certainly did not appear to have been room in her skin tight leathers for it. Unfortunately, she looked his way as he pondered the minor mystery and seemed to realize exactly what he was thinking. She winked at him; one corner of her mouth lifted up in a sly smile, and then she turned back to the bar.

"What can I do for you today, my dear?" The innkeeper was a middle aged man, broadly built and heavily bearded. He greeted Marian warmly. She dropped the coin purse in front of him.

"This elf no longer exists." She said flatly, gesturing to Fenris. "In fact, he never existed. I'll keep both our rooms on my tab for the foreseeable future with our previous arrangement of 'no questions asked or answered'. Agreed?" Fenris noted that though the last was phrased as a question, the tone she used did not quite leave an option for refusal.

"Agreed" came the reply. "Have fun." With that, the innkeeper swiped the coin purse off the bar. Marian walked leisurely to the stairs that led to the rented rooms.

"Coming?" she asked him when she noticed he was still standing by the bar.

The innkeeper gave Fenris a wink and a smile that somehow made him feel dirty. He moved to follow Marian upstairs.

"This is my room." Amazingly, she stopped in front of the door right next to his own. How had he not seen her before?

"That was your plan? Bribery? How can you be so sure he is to be trusted?" He sounded harsher than he had meant to.

"You don't know how much I bribed him with. Andraste herself could show up asking for you and he'd keep his mouth shut, trust me. Besides, I have a pirate friend who recommended this inn to me for the very reason that he can be trusted."

Fenris pinched his eyes shut with one hand in a pained gesture. "You have a pirate friend? You're risking both our lives on the word of a pirate?"

She did not appear to be offended, but she also did not answer the question. "Why don't we switch rooms for now then, if you're still worried? I would like to get a little sleep and rather than go out half cocked looking for people to kill, I happen to know Corbin will be here tonight to play cards and get drunk. We can question him then. And if he doesn't show, we know he was involved and then we can go off half cocked to kill him."

"How do you know the dwarf will be here?"

"Because his thief's pride was hurt when he lost five sovereigns to me the other night so he's bound to try to win it back. Or steal it back, as the case may be."

Fenris let out an exhausted sigh. This woman seemed to require a great deal of his energy to deal with, but he wasn't sure why. "Fine. My room is right here." He pointed to the next door.

"Excellent!" They exchanged keys, and she immediately entered his room. "Just yell if something happens, and if I smell blood magic I'll be over to help before the demons even materialize." And with that, she left him alone in the hall with her key and his bewilderment.

Fenris entered her room. Clothes and bits of light armor were strewn about. A few books lay open on a small table and a few others had daggers folded in them appearing as if they were marking her place. Everything in this area of the city tended to smell like sea salt and fish, but somehow her room smelled of orchids. The bed was unmade and the shutters on the small window were closed.

"Foolish woman" he said to himself and he immediately began searching though everything. The clothes were of simple and practical design but well made. He was able to piece together one full set of leather armor reinforced with a small steel breastplate and matching gauntlets, pauldrens and greaves. He absently thought that this would have served her better in the fight last night than the simple leathers she had worn. It is not as if a mage needs armor in the first place, he mused.

He scowled at the pile of books. Unable to read the words, those tomes could have been full of blood magic rituals, and he would never know. He moved past the painful reminder of his ignorance and came upon a long chest in the corner. There was only a simple lock on it and there did not appear to be any magic wards protecting it. "Foolish" he said again, and he picked the lock.

The chest was full of random items. There were several more large books. He tossed them aside. He pulled out a silverite staff, so the mage does have a staff. Decades of age showed on it but it seemed to have been well cared for and still in good condition. A small box held a signet ring, like those belonging to noble families but the crest on it was not of imperial origin. There were two small portraits in simple frames. One depicted a woman with similar features to Marian; beautiful but, with less intrigue in the eyes, her appearance seemed less...interesting to him than Marian's. The other was of a man, likely related, with dark hair and a serious but slightly empty looking expression. Fenris waded through more flotsam: loose coins, a deck of cards, several finely made dresses, an amulet with a likeness of Andraste, a piece of a Halla's horn carved into the form of a hawk. He was beginning to think he would find nothing that would give him insight into the true intentions of the woman who so freely offered her aid to him.

Then he saw it. At the very bottom of the chest was a Qunari greatsword. The red steel and wicked design was unmistakable. A warrior of the Qun did not surrender his blade in life or death. He set down his own sword and hefted the Qunari weapon. It was well balanced and had been well used. There could be no possible way she could have stolen this weapon. It was even less likely that she had killed the warrior to whom it belonged and taken it from his corpse. He doubted she was even able to lift it. And it was impossible for her to have won it in single combat.

He put the blade down and sat on the bed. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Finding a Qunari sword among her belongings was bizarre to say the least, but it was not exactly the incriminating evidence he had thought to find. He was tired, but his fatigue was not physical. This woman had his mind spinning with questions. He lifted his head and looked at the few possessions and mementos of the person who had helped him that he had scattered carelessly about the room. He felt remorse knot in his stomach. She had given him no reason to be so doubtful of her. Could he no longer behave as a grateful and civilized person should? Would he always be a beast on the run? It occurred to him that rather than speculate about Marian's past in paranoid frenzy he might set aside his distrust and simply ask her about it.

xxxx

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Hawke had turned the small room inside out and upside down looking for something that would teach her more about the mysterious elf. He appeared to have not one possession that he was not already carrying on his person. She took a delicious moment to imagine searching said person, after which she scoffed at her own ridiculous behavior.

She sat on the bed. About halfway through their walk back to the inn, and after her heart stopped pounding in her chest, it suddenly occurred to her why she was so fascinated by the elf. It wasn't the lyrium at all; however, she desperately wanted to know more about that. For some reason he walked behind her the whole way, and she could feel his eyes boring into her from behind. It was then that it hit her. She was aroused. From that first fleeting sensation when he barely brushed her as she fell, to the wild chaos that spun in her head when he had her by the throat against a wall and his lyrium pulsed around her, it was pure and intense arousal. She was no blushing chantry sister, but nor was she like Isabela taking her pleasure wherever the opportunity presented itself. She could not recall ever being so affected in this way.

She closed her eyes and sad memories of Anders came to her. She had never been sure if she really loved him, but she had cared for him deeply. He reminded her so much of her father. They fell into such an easy connection and as her beloved family kept getting taken away from her she was so very lonely it was all too simple to let him comfort her. The best of him was selfless and kind. The worst of him was a liar and murderer of innocents. As time passed she knew he was becoming unstable, too many years of the spirit's thoughts carving away at his mind. But she stubbornly did nothing, thinking she could protect him from himself, thinking she could protect others from him, selfishly thinking she could not bear to lose one more person. He knew she would do it. He knew she could not let his crime go unpunished, that she would be the one to martyr him, which is what he wanted all along.

In the past, it's in the past. Focus forward. It occurred to her that when she did focus forward she saw Fenris. Anders had been a dangerous dalliance. She had known Fenris for less than a day and though she knew next to nothing about him, it was as if his lyrium was burning inside her as well, so strong was his allure. She could not explain it, but she did not even want to try. She just wanted to feel it. She curled upon the bed and when sleep took her she felt as if she were perilously falling into an abyss.


	6. Story

For the first time in as far back as his fractured memories went, Fenris did not have a nightmare. He awoke to find himself lying sprawled upon her bed. He thought he would simply sit there for a bit to rest his eyes. The shutters on the window remained closed and the heat of midday lay stagnant in the small room that smelled of orchids. He must have been lulled to sleep, though he also could not remember that ever happening before either. He sat up and rubbed his eyes trying to recall his dream. He had dreamt of her. He remembered flashes of a dagger in the moonlight. He remembered laughter and a beautiful smile directed at him. Those things did actually happen, but when he remembered seeing them in his dream it felt different somehow. He felt different somehow. Not like when he was fighting beside her, but as if he was just watching her calmly. Enjoying her. He shook his head and growled. Distracted! You are too distracted by this woman! He chastised himself bitterly, as a knock came at the door.

Fenris shot out of the bed and his sword was in his hand in an instant.

"It's Marian. Can you let me in?" He took a deep breath, paused, and then opened the door. She stood in the doorway and smiled at him. She was holding two apples. She took a bite out of one and handed him the other. Sword still in hand he just stood and stared at her. For the briefest of moments, his breath caught in his throat. Her wide eyes were radiant and her dark hair hung loose around her face. Was he seeing her as she had looked in his dream? Were heated memories from the Fade coloring his impression of her?

"Slavers probably wouldn't knock." She nodded her head at his sword. Nor would they be as beautiful, the thought came to him unbidden and he blinked trying to dislodge it from his head. "Aren't you hungry?" She waved the apple at him. He took it from her hand and stepped aside so she could enter the room. After he closed the door behind them, he turned and saw her looking around at the dozens of items scattered about. He did not have time to make excuses about the state of her belongings when she started laughing. Loud, free, full laugher shook her shoulders and her hair spilled down her back as her head tilted up, eyes closed in giddy amusement.

He opened his mouth eager to apologize, but she turned and lifted her hand to his face. He reflexively took a step back avoiding the touch. She seemed to choose not to acknowledge his avoidance. She simply slowed her movement, extended one finger and let it rest softly upon his open lips.

Shocked by his own inaction, he just let her do it. The feel of her finger on his mouth was surprising in its lack of anything he had come to expect from being touched. It was not painful. It did not cause the lines of lyrium in his chin to burn. It did not bring to mind any of the unpleasant sensations that physical contact had always brought him in the past. It was just there, as if it should be there. Another willful involuntary thought floated to the front of his mind; if I shift my tongue I could taste her. He had to make a conscious effort to hold his tongue inside his mouth so as not to act on the impulse.

"So what did you learn?" She took her finger from his lips and moved to sit cross-legged on the bed.

"It was not my intention..." Luckily she interrupted him, because he really was not sure what he was going to say.

"It's alright. I did the same thing. But you already know what I learned about you."

"Nothing." he replied.

"Yes, but that in itself was very telling." She looked at him as if she knew something about him that even he did not know. He was torn between anger and a ludicrous hope that maybe she could tell him something about himself. He was beginning to feel unsettled. Never before had he felt so undisciplined. His thoughts lacked focus around this woman. Strange musings appeared in his head, bizarre impulses he had to fight. He was not himself.

For the next few moments she did nothing but sit in silence, eating her apple and staring at him, patiently waiting for he knew not what. Did she expect him to speak? He felt he was starting down an unfamiliar road. How had he come to taking assistance from a mage? How had fate placed him here, alone with her, allowing himself to be touched, conversing easily and calmly as if he was not living on borrowed time? He grew more uncomfortable under her gaze. Thankfully, she spoke.

"I won't ask you to tell me any secrets about yourself you don't wish to share. As for me, you've looked through all of my secrets already, but if I had to guess, all you learned was that you have more questions". She finished her apple and tossed it into the long chest in the corner, now empty of its contents. "I would rather you have all your questions answered about me, so I can move forward knowing I have not deceived you in anyway." She did not appear discomfited in the least. He felt his heartbeat rise and sweat form on the back of his neck.

"If you're willing to listen, then sit and eat your apple." Part of him was relieved at the command. Commands were simple, and he sat.

"I'm going to tell you many things that I should not, but I'm going to trust you won't betray me. If you're willing to tell me more about yourself after that," she smiled a warm and genuine smile, not once breaking contact with his eyes, "well, then my risk will have been worth it."

xxxx

She told him everything. To this stranger, this mage-hating stranger, she told everything. Things she had not spoken of in years, things that could get her killed, things that could get her made tranquil, passed effortlessly from her lips. To his credit, he sat and silently absorbed it all with an undisturbed expression on his handsome face. He even ate the apple she brought him. She spoke of her father training her as a child. She told him of her family and how she lost each one of them. She spoke of Fereldon and the blight, Kirkwall and the friends and enemies it held. She told him about the Circle and the templars and the lover she killed; she told him the story behind the Qunari sword.

"I impaled myself on that greatsword you know. It was the only way to get close enough to him. My blades were woefully inadequate. We fought for so long, my magic was exhausted. He never even saw the knife I slit his throat with. Never let your enemy see your last blade." She couldn't help herself from grinning wickedly. She saw Fenris' mouth twitch slightly as if he wanted to speak. She paused wanting to hear something, anything that gave her some impression of what his thoughts were.

"If given the choice he would have seen you collared." He spoke with not an ounce of inflection. But she was starting to be able to read him. She was beginning to realize this strange arousal she felt was not one-sided. Perhaps his was buried under many layers of tragedy and hate, but definitely not one-sided.

"Actually, he didn't even know I was a mage until the duel started. I'm sure if he had he would never have suggested we duel in the first place. He must have felt terribly disgraced having to fight the likes of a mage. I have a horrid scar." She straightened and stuck her chest out, resting a hand beneath her breasts. "There are some things even magic can't heal entirely."

There was nothing left to tell. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. When she opened them and looked his way, he was staring at the floor, looking for all the world as if he were brooding about something.

"So you have a choice. You can go find some templars and give me up to them, or we can go downstairs and resume the hunt for the people who are hunting you, together. I still offer my help freely, but I won't deny I would appreciate another sword between me and the rite of tranquility if it ever comes to that."

"Why did you tell me all of these things?" His eyes remained locked on the floorboards.

"Knowledge is power, Fenris. Now you have power over me. It seemed to be the fastest way to get you to trust me and I didn't think you would continue to keep my company if you didn't trust me. And I'm very attracted to you...so...there's that too."

He looked up from the floorboards at that. The mouth she touched earlier was just barely open. His stoic face showed the faintest blush of utter confusion. But not disgust, she triumphantly thought to herself, definitely not disgust.

xxxx

A sane man would run from this room. Clearly, Fenris was mad. She was right. The damn mage was right. He did trust her. He listened with rapt attention at the unbelievable story she told. Unbelievable if not for the many rumors about the woman called Hawke Fenris had heard, many times and in many places that corroborated her telling. He had passed through Kirkwall briefly once several years ago; avoided a group of hunters there. He did not even spend one night inside the city. It had reminded him too much of this one.

Against all reason he was compelled to trust her. It was entirely possible that she would attempt to strike him down with a bolt of lightning as soon as take a breath. And yet something inside him was whispering that this was not the case. Something inside him, some instinct told him to trust her as she apparently trusted him. Not only that but she asked for his help if the time came. That same small voice inside was now telling him that he should look after her. He needed to look after her. She didn't know Minrathous like he did. She was ignorant to the depths of depravity and the peril permeating the very air they breathed here.

He was clearly mad. He had seen this woman kill; he had heard how she took down an Arishok, an Arishok! Why in the Maker's name did she think she needed his protection? The voice was getting louder now, telling him that his instincts to survive had never steered him wrong, and now those instincts were screaming that his survival depended on her survival. For all the sharpness of her blades and the fire she wielded at her fingertips, as she sat now quiet before him, she seemed small and innocent, and beautiful. He was losing all control of his own thoughts and the scent of orchids floated past him again. He should run. And yet, he found his feet would not lift from the floor and his eyes would not part from hers, so large and looking at him so patiently.

"Excellent, let's go then" She stood up and actually left the room seeming to assume he would follow. He had not said a word. When did she realize his capitulation? Was his inner monologue so obvious to her? Without another thought, the feet that had refused to move from the floor but moments ago carried him to the door to follow behind her.


	7. Interrogation

Hawke smugly noted Fenris's footfalls behind her. For now, she thought it best not to gloat over his surrender. She imagined it could not have been easy for him. Dusk had settled upon Minrathous while they were talking and the sounds of evening business carried up from the bar room below. Before descending the stairs, she turned abruptly and stopped Fenris with her hand on his chest. He did not step back this time, another smug notation.

"Let me go down first. If he's here I should approach him alone. If he was involved, he'll run if he sees you. Give me a bit of time, and then come down. We'll be at the table where you pushed me over, he always sits there."

Fenris rolled his eyes at her. "I did not push you over, you fell. After seeing you fight, I would have thought you would be more agile."

"Does that mean you've pondered how agile I might be?" Hand still on his chest, Hawke leaned into him slightly and narrowed her eyes suggestively.

"How do you expect me to respond to these ridiculous statements?" Fenris spoke softly. Rather than sounding like an admonition, it almost sounded as if he was looking for a real answer.

"They aren't ridiculous if they're sincere." That was all the guidance he was going to get for now. She patted him once on the chest and went downstairs alone.

As predicted, the thief was sitting at the same table shuffling a deck of cards. Hawke casually took a seat beside him.

"Good, I want the chance to win my coin back human." He started dealing cards to her.

"Actually, Corbin, I was hoping you might have a tip on a job for me."

"Well...I don't know..."

Hawke put five sovereigns on the table in front of the dwarf, which he swiped up greedily. "I hope you know this was the only way you could have gotten your coin back." Hawke folded her arms and continued. "I heard about a high priced bounty for some elf whose been giving the run around to more than a few clumsy fools calling themselves hunters. Thought I'd give it a go. Know anything about it?"

"Sorry, but you're too late," He paused to take a sip from his mug when his chair was kicked from behind and a mouthful of ale sprayed towards Hawke. She leaned back to avoid it, nodding her head in the direction of the stairs to Fenris, who had silently appeared behind the dwarf. Hawke stood up leisurely, taking the mug of ale with her. Fenris lifted Corbin by one arm and dragged him upstairs after her. On the way, they passed the bearded innkeeper. Hawke raised the mug to him in greeting without stopping. She felt Fenris hesitate behind her, the dwarf struggling to escape his grip. He appeared to be wondering how far this innkeeper's indifference went. The innkeeper simply gave Fenris another lewd wink and walked away.

Hawke opened the door to Fenris's room and sat on the bed. The elf followed close behind, dwarf in tow. Fenris threw him into a chair in front of Hawke, and then he pulled a wicked looking knife from his boot and positioned it at the dwarf's throat. Hawke took a drink from the mug of ale.

"Too late, am I?" She said as Corbin looked anxiously back and forth between the elf and the human. "Listen dwarf, you don't have to die tonight. But if my friend doesn't get the information he needs..."

"Y..y..you two are working together?" He stammered, knife creeping closer to his throat. "Who are you anyway?" He asked Hawke.

"We are working together and I am no one to be trifled with." Hawke's voice lost its easy good humor and took on a sharp edge. She set down the ale and extended her open palm to the dwarf. A flame appeared in it, flickering orange, then blue, then white. Sweat beaded on the thief's brow, but whether it was from Hawke's fire or Fenris's knife, she couldn't tell.

Fenris put his knife away, letting Hawke handle the intimidation so he could ask the questions. "Who recruited you to lure me to that brothel?"

"Some humans from Kirkwall..." The sweating dwarf replied eagerly.

Hawke's flame briefly wavered. "Kirkwall...? She said, more to herself than to the two in the room with her.

"I swear I didn't know you were the fugitive they were looking for until this morning when I heard about the dead bodies near the foundries! I just thought they wanted to take out a rival hunter. I thought you were a mercenary! How many slaves do you know who look like...that!?" He pointed indignantly at Fenris. "When I found out they were dead, I didn't want anyone coming after me thinking I tipped you off to them. I was about to pack my bags and get out of the city when I heard the real story. They work for some Tevinter merchant living in Kirkwall, trading out of the Free Marches. A high-up magister offered the merchant some exclusive business in exchange for...well...you."

Fenris punched him in the face.

"Hey!" Corbin complained sorely. Hawke had trouble holding back a laugh as the dwarf tried to stop up his bleeding nose. "I'm giving you good information here elf!

"Just keep taking and I may not do it again." Fenris growled. The dwarf looked at Hawke with a pleading expression. She just shrugged.

Corbin continued. "The Marchers lost their ship in that fire down at the east docks," Fenris sent a withering glare towards Hawke at the mention of the fire. She pretended not to notice. "So they cut a deal with the Antivan group, who incidentally did try to capture you in Fereldon just like I told you before. They would share some of the bounty in exchange for the Antivans' help bringing you in and then for passage back to Kirkwall."

Hawke rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. Following this scheming was giving her a headache. Not everyone was as direct as she preferred. She needed some clarification. "So if they already knew my partner here was in Minrathous, what in the Fade did they need you for?"

"Your friend had me asking around for information on any open bounties and bounty hunters tend to be a territorial bunch. I found myself in a situation similar to this one." He looked accusingly at Fenris. Fenris looked as if he would punch him again, so the dwarf put up his hands in defense. Hawke shook her head at Fenris.

"Just let him finish, so we aren't here all night." Fenris backed down but kept his fist clenched.

"They thought I was trying to weasel in on their prize. I ended up telling them I was gathering information for the elf. I just thought they wanted to set you up to get you out of the running. They told me what to say and where to send you. Like I said, I didn't know you were the target until this morning. When I found out, I thought it likely you already moved on."

Having heard enough, Hawke took over the conversation. "Well, he did not move on, and it's time the tables were tuned on these hunters. We know the Antivans are still alive, but do you know how many Marchers were working with them?"

"I don't know exactly. It was a large group. And before you ask I don't know where to find them either." Corbin sat back in his chair with a sullen expression. Fenris started to pull his knife back out. Hawke stood up and stilled his hand.

"There's no point in killing him now. He can't do any more damage. Besides, if anyone else questions him, he's going to tell them that you've acquired the assistance of a very dangerous mage. I hear that means something in this city." Though the words were softly spoken, the look in Hawke's eyes would leave no one doubting their truth.

xxxx

Marian Hawke produced a handkerchief from one of her pockets and dipped it in the washbasin in the corner of the small room. She handed it to Fenris.

"You have dwarf blood on you." She reclined on the bed, propped up on her elbows.

He absently took it from her and cleaned off his knuckles. They were alone in the room, the dwarf having just slithered back down to the bar. Fenris sat. Corbin was more forthcoming with the information than he had expected. Danarius knew he was in the city all along and had time to plan his capture. He was starting to feel as if the sea was closing in around him and he hoped drowning was not his only option. His determination to take the fight to his former master had not lessened, but his fears now carried a sense of inevitability that was becoming difficult for him to dismiss.

Once again, Marian seemed to read his thoughts. "We're not trying to push back the tide, you know. We're just going to kill a few slavers. Do you know where the two blood mages might have come from that were helping them?"

Fenris sneered. "Undoubtedly they were provided by my former master, the magister the dwarf spoke of. His name is Danarius. He is an imperial senator and one of the most powerful mages in Tevinter." Fenris studied Hawke. Her full lips were pursed and she wore a serious expression. He knew exactly what she wasn't asking him. She was keeping her promise not to ask him to reveal his secrets. Her deliberate silence was meaningful. It allowed him the choice to share things with her on his own terms. Choice. Self determination. These were novelties in his world, but he was finding them to be a welcome change. The refreshing sensation these new concepts brought upon him, coupled with the fact that she had already told him nearly everything about herself, spurred him on.

"There are few mages with skill enough to perform the ritual that gave me these markings. He was one of them." Fenris could taste the bitter anger in his mouth as he spoke the words and the constant burn in his skin seemed to flare.

"It would seem to me that there are few people with strength enough to survive the ritual that gave you those markings." Fenris considered her words. It never occurred to him to think of his disfigurement as a badge of strength. The burn of the lines calmed the faintest amount.

She seemed satisfied with the small bit of himself that he had shared with her. Her face relaxed back into her easy smile and he watched her lips as she continued to speak. "Any idea what this business deal might be between the merchant in Kirkwall and Danarius? I wish I knew who this merchant was, but I'm sure it's obvious I wasn't invited to associate with many of the Kirkwall elite. I generally just tried to exist without causing them too much offense." She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue as if to mock the memory.

"When it comes to it, there are only two commodities a magister would concern himself with: slaves and lyrium."

"Hmmm." Marian sighed and looked at the ceiling, lost in thought. "I can only imagine the chantry has clamped down on the lyrium shipments to the free marches after...well, after...I don't know about Starkhaven, but I happen to know that Kirkwall has a morally incorruptible guard captain who had all but obliterated the smaller smuggling operations there as well as most of the illicit slave trade. But if the Templars are still struggling to control the mage population, that will be a distraction to law enforcement. Perhaps this merchant approached Danarius, or perhaps it was the other way around. They could corner the market."

Fenris felt his gut twist. Danarius obviously had other goals outside of simply re-acquiring his lost bodyguard. But his suspicion was too much to share with Marian, too soon. He bit his tongue and remained silent.

Marian jumped up from the bed with purpose. "Speculation on motive aside, we still have to deal with these hunters, and we really only have one lead on how to find them, before they find us." Fenris rose from his chair. It was not lost on him that he was now us, and surprisingly he was perfectly content with that. He was content to follow her lead; content to have someone watch his back and content to do the same. Contentment, another novel concept he would need time to absorb. He wondered at the fact that when dawn broke on this day he was cursing himself for following this mage. Now, as the sun set he found himself content to hover near her, like a moth near a flame.


	8. Exposure

"Be silent!" It was a harsh whisper, as loud as he dared make it. If he could have shouted it, he would have. If he could have shaken her while he shouted it, he would have done that too. "You will stand there, silent, and you will let me handle the speaking. Do you understand?"

Marian opened her mouth, as if to speak but Fenris lifted a gauntleted finger and narrowed his eyes from under his hood. She thought better of testing him any further and simply nodded her head in assent.

He was certain that in the entirety of his life, even in the past he could not remember, no one had ever spoken to him as much as Marian had in the last hour. After the dwarf's interrogation they decided to return to the Iron Lady and question the prostitutes. She said if at least one of the Antivans had a whore they were partial to he was sure to have spilled some information in addition to spilling...other things. The relentless speaking, that took the form of arguing, came when he attempted to get her to cooperate with a sensible plan in which they would avoid unwanted attention.

He merely suggested she dress in something that was neither leather nor metal and relinquish her daggers in favor of her staff, or her father's staff as she had corrected him. He would also make a sacrifice by leaving his greatsword behind to instead carry her daggers at his hip. If she at least appeared to be a magister in passing, he could pretend to be her bodyguard and no one would look twice. "This is not the backwaters of Fereldon", he tried to reason with her. "Outside of the docks, people here do not leave their homes looking like armed militia awaiting attack from wild beasts. And a human woman walking side by side with an elf is simply not done in the better parts of the city." To which he then had to listen to a seemingly endless rant about the injustices in the Imperium and her opinions on how to improve things before she finally acquiesced and changed her clothes. He then had to physically take her daggers from her as she clutched them to her chest. He was certain, however, that she had somehow managed to conceal a knife of some sort on her person.

Then, as they walked, she kept trying to turn behind her and speak to him. He had to pull her aside into an alley to explain his attempts at silencing her with menacing looks. "These people need to believe I am your slave. You should not be trying to engage me in idle conversation." Another rant followed.

They were able to get the name of the whore favored by the leader of the Antivan slavers from one of the young serving girls washing laundry in the small yard behind the brothel. The plan now was to purchase said whore and question him while they were in the private of his room. No one would need to be killed, no weapons would need to make an appearance, and they would appear to be just another set of customers. She simply had to remain silent and let Fenris pretend to be her servant acquiring her entertainment for the evening. And yet, more complaining commenced.

"I refuse to let you pretend to be my slave! You are not a slave and I am not some morally corrupt magister…" and on and on it went until he again pulled her aside and finally just commanded her to be silent. She nodded and took it better than he expected. If he were honest with himself, it was easier for him to do than he would have thought, commanding someone so imperiously. Interesting.

"Now, let's go. And try to appear haughtier and not quite so..."

xxxx

Aroused. There it was again. That deliciously stimulated feeling he awoke inside her. He actually looked very intimidating in his frustrated state, as he ordered her around. Intimidating and very arousing.

"...dumbfounded." Fenris finished his sentence.

Slightly crestfallen that he had mistaken her desire for idiocy, she carried her father's staff and walked along as she was told, handsome elf at her heels. She absently thought that she would never have put up with being ordered around by Anders. In the past, she had only ever been the one to take charge, in all situations. Necessity dictated it more often than not and it suited her personality. This deference to Fenris that she found herself so quick to succumb to was so out of character for her she hardly knew how to proceed.

They entered the brothel and a cloying smell of flowers and spices hit her and stuck inside her nostrils. Her nose twisted involuntarily in disgust. Well that takes care of looking haughty, she thought. Fenris stepped past her and approached the Madame who was standing at the end of a long bar.

"My mistress would like to purchase the services of Perrin." Hawke cringed both at being referred to as 'mistress' and at the fact that she was pretending to buy a whore for the night. She took the time to look around as Fenris appeared to be negotiating a price. Busty women and well built men in various forms of undress; besotted customers all too eager to give their coin for a quick tumble. Brothels were very much the same in any city, she imagined. She was starting to feel dirty just standing there. Apparently having come to an agreement, Fenris gave the Madame her payment and turned back to Hawke.

He leaned in to her ear and said "Upstairs, second door on the right." Then he bowed slightly and gestured for her to go ahead of him. She arrived at the closed door of the prostitute Perrin's room and was about to knock when she heard a low growling behind her.

"Are you daft, woman, do not knock! This is not an audience with the Archon, just go in."

Again she obeyed him, but not before she stuck out her tongue at him.

Inside the comfortable looking room, a shirtless and handsome young elf sat at the edge of a large bed. He rose upon their entry and moved to "greet" Hawke. Fenris shut the door behind him and intercepted the other elf, standing between him and Hawke.

"Do Not Touch" Fenris said menacingly. When Perrin smiled and attempted to change his focus to Fenris, Hawke felt the now familiar low pulse of his lyrium even before it was able to glow. It was her turn to intercept the approaching elf before the poor thing found a fist in his chest.

She laid a gentle hand on Fenris's arm to help soothe the lyrium's pull and she stepped between the two of them. "That goes for him too, dear."

Perrin now appeared confused and a little disappointed. "So, do you just want me to watch the two of you..." He smiled suggestively.

"Tempting, but not tonight." Hawke winked at Fenris who was wearing a look she could not quite read. "Have a seat back on the bed, we just want to ask a few questions."

xxxx

They had smuggled themselves onto a rooftop. It had not been easy with Marian awkwardly balancing a staff and wearing only a short tunic. A short tunic that afforded Fenris several views that threatened to distract him from his purpose tonight. His mind kept wandering to what exactly the elf at the brothel thought he was going to watch them do. He adjusted himself more than once and hoped Marian had not noticed. Also more than once, she shot him a silent glare that clearly said "you should have let me wear what I wanted and not bring this staff". He ignored them, grateful she continued to obey him and remain blessedly silent.

When they finally settled in, hidden by shadow, they observed the comings and goings of the nondescript manor across the way. With a wink and one of her smiles, Marian was able to obtain all the information they could have hoped for. The whore was all too happy to give over whatever he knew about the slavers. There were several bits of detail Fenris could have done without. Sexual fetishes aside, the information proved accurate. They were directed to this manor in one of the higher class districts and over the past hour they had seen not only the slavers come and go from its doors but also several people who likely were working for the Kirkwall merchant hauling crates and other packages.

"I feel magic." She whispered. Marian had her eyes closed and nose stuck up appearing to sniff the air. "I can guarantee they are not just running a shipping operation out of that building." Fenris frowned and kept his hands busy fondling his borrowed daggers. They were not prepared right now to approach and investigate further. They were not armed enough to charge in, and not unencumbered enough to sneak in. They would have to plan a course of action and return here later.

"Fenris, I need to ask you something." she turned to face him with a serious expression. "When we come back to clear that house out," She had obviously come to his same conclusions, "I'm going to need to use magic." He gripped the daggers in his hands tighter. "If you would be willing to tell me how it affects you...to be near it or to have someone heal you, or cast protection spells on you, I can find a way to make it less..."

He interrupted her, "If you are referring to the spell that activated the lyrium in my markings when you first came to my aid, do not concern yourself. I trust you would not attempt to do that. I am perfectly able, to bear normal magic." He sneered at her in the darkness. He had not meant to sound so disgusted. He had to tell himself she was only trying to protect him.

She didn't respond. A fleeting look of determination passed her face and then her eyes were pools of dark calm. She extended her hand to him and paused, hovering above his own. Then she lowered it very softly onto his. He let her do it, more curious than wary. Faint white gossamer strands of light extended from her hand and wrapped themselves around his wrist and fingers. The lyrium lines in his hand began to glow. He braced himself for the familiar burn, but none came. He was taken aback. He had never felt magic like this, and certainly never directed at him. The strings of light felt cool twined around him and rather than feel the pull as the lyrium ignited, he felt it flow, like water through his hand.

Marian removed her hand slowly, avoiding his wide eyed gaze. She looked out over the rooftops before them and rested her chin in her hand, the illuminated threads dying out like embers in the breeze. "Every mage's magic feels different. Now you know what mine feels like."

Fenris couldn't find the words to describe it.

xxxx

Her companion was silent as they walked back to the inn. Hawke knew it had been a risk, deliberately exposing him to her magic, but she could not, would not take the chance of harming him in the middle of a fight even unintentionally. She had no idea what kind of magic had been involved in making his markings, and yet she knew for certain it was magic that should never have been used. Though he had not spoken, he did not appear to be truly angry or damaged in any way, so she decided to let him brood uninterrupted.

Again it was nearing dawn when they arrived 'home', such that it was. The inn was silent, its other occupants likely all passed out in their beds sleeping off the night's debauchery. Marian approached the door to her room. She was a little surprised that Fenris continued to follow closely, and did not veer away to his own door. She wasn't about to say anything to stop him, so she opened her door.

Someone was in her room. Before she could even form her next thought, Fenris had pushed her behind him and had a dagger in his hand poised to attack the intruder. Peeking from behind the tall elf, she could see suntanned skin and long dark hair and she heard a voice with a familiar swagger.

"Miss me, sweet thing?"


	9. Power

"If I had known you were shacked up with a gorgeous elf, sweet thing, I would have come to visit sooner."

Hawke pushed Fenris into the room and slammed the door shut behind her. She turned and stilled his arm that wielded her dagger. "It's alright Fenris, this is Isabela, my friend, remember I spoke of her?"

Fenris flipped the dagger in his hand and sheathed it at his hip. He eyed the woman warily. "The pirate that nearly got you killed?" He said flatly as he pulled back his hood. Isabela winced.

"That's what you're telling people about me?" The pirate perched a hand on her hip. "I should take you over my knee…" The statement was directed at Hawke, but the sultry glance that came with it was directed at Fenris.

A sudden flush of jealousy rose up into Hawke's chest. She unconsciously stepped between Isabela and Fenris as if somehow her body could deflect the other woman's lust. "Isabela, meet Fenris and yes, that's what I'm telling people. You should be happy; it can only help your nefarious reputation. What are you doing here anyway? It isn't safe if you are seen with me."

"Still trying to protect us, kitten? Well, it is appreciated but unfortunately no longer necessary. So now we're here to help protect you. Nefarious reputation aside, I'm loyal you know, at least to you."

Hawke pulled up chairs for her and Fenris and Isabela sat back down on the bed. Hawke froze. "What do you mean 'no longer necessary'? Wait, what do you mean 'we'?"

"You better sit down, first." Isabela took on a serious expression that sent a chill through Hawke. The last time she saw Isabela serious, it ended with a greatsword in her chest. Hawke sat down next to Fenris, suddenly wishing she could hold his hand.

"Varric is with me. He's at the Dwarven Embassy right now renewing some old contacts." Isabella paused. "Seekers from Orlais came for him." Hawke's hands balled into fists. "They had him for three days. He told them everything everyone already knows, but obviously he couldn't tell them where you were. And before your friend over there asks, I didn't tell anyone."

Hawke looked over to Fenris, suspicion poured out of the eyes he kept trained on the pirate. Is he being protective or just suspicious in general? "I know you didn't tell anyone, Isabela. What happened, is Varric alright?"

"No worse for wear. I think he had fun actually. Made up a few ridiculous embellishments about you. After they let him go, he had them followed. They stayed in Kirkwall for one more day, and then left on their ship..."

Hawke could hear her heartbeat thump in her ears as Isabela's voice trailed off into silence. "What do you not want to tell me?"

"They have your blood, Hawke."

"They…what?" Her usual clear and confidant voice cracked.

"The Seekers, they have your blood in a phylactery" Isabela's voice was soft and sounded defeated.

Anger welled up inside Hawke and she felt Fenris grow restless beside her. "That is not possible. I've never been taken to a Circle. The Templars have never even had their hands on me! I've never used blood magic. Where would they have gotten my blood, it's not possible…" She repeated with shock and desperation.

"You spilled quite a bit of blood when that sword ran you through." She gestured to the Qunari blade leaning against the wall where Fenris had placed it. "We think Anders took some of it, when he was healing you. Varric found out they ransacked the clinic in Darktown and found it with some of the things Anders left behind."

Hawke stared at the floor in disbelief. "What could he have wanted with my blood? What could he have been thinking?" She shouted.

Fenris leaned forward to capture her gaze. She looked into his green eyes wishing they were a forest she could disappear into. Now that the Chantry had her blood, however, there was no where she could disappear where they would not find her. Fenris continued to hold her eyes with his as he spoke "You said this abomination Anders, was trying to convert you to his cause of a mage rebellion. If he had plans to secretly give your blood to the Templars then you would have been hunted just like him. You would have had no choice but to aid him fully, if only to re-acquire your own freedom."

"Hm, that makes sense, Hawke." Isabela nodded her head in agreement. "He wasn't exactly stable...towards the end." Hawke clenched her jaw at the reminder of her foolish ignorance.

The bastard damns me from the fade, Hawke thought, but she bit her tongue.

Fenris spoke again. "Marian, the Chantry in Orlais has no authority in the Imperium. It will not be so easy for them to capture you here as you think. They will not be able to move freely in Minrathous. The Magisterium would have their heads if they found out they were even in the city, let alone had plans to abduct a free mage from it."

Hawke's eyes opened wide at the sound of her given name, and she looked at Isabela whose mouth was opened in realization.

"Wait, Hawke, what did he call you? Is that your real name?" Isabela's velvet voice crooned in amusement and it cut through the dark clouds that had settled in the room.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Hawke is my family name. Marian is my given name. I just...don't use it...much."

"But 'Marian', really?" She laughed heartily. "It just sounds so delicate and innocent; like some vapid little princess. It doesn't suit you at all! And you never told any of us, but you told your new boyfriend here? Exactly how much have you told him? Who are you anyway?" She asked Fenris directly.

Fenris leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. Hawke could feel the tension in him as he stifled a flare of the lyrium. Hawke opened her mouth to speak, wanting to save him from Isabela's questioning, but he replied before she could come to his aid.

"Who I am is not as important as why I am here. Marian is helping me with a personal matter, and in return I have agreed to put myself and my sword between her and her enemies if and when they come for her." He spoke confidently and without hesitation. Huh, definitely protective, Hawke couldn't help the stupid grin that appeared on her face. She quickly attempted to twist her mouth hoping Isabela had not seen it.

She had seen it, however, and knowing Hawke as well as a dear friend should, Isabela just winked at her and said to Fenris, "Well then, handsome, welcome to the family."

xxxx

"It wasn't hard to find out what you've been up to Hawke. All I had to do was follow the trail of dead slavers. And two blood mages I hear? Just like old times then." The dwarf, Varric, chuckled and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet upon the table. The four of them sat in a shadowed corner of the Sword and Sovereign. Marian insisted they focus on the hunt she and Fenris had started for Danarius and not make any rash decisions yet regarding the hunt underway for her. We've already drawn blood in your battle, she had told him, we've given your former master reason to pause, we shouldn't waste the opportunity.

"So what's the story, Elf? Did you ask for Marian's help," he sent an amused look towards the mage as he used her name, "or did she insert herself into your affairs unsolicited? She does that quite a bit."

There was only a small fraction of Fenris that was currently functioning in the present. He had been prevented from resolving what troubled him. He had meant to confront Marian about it in her room, but they had not been alone. His conscious mind only vaguely registered meeting and interacting with Marian's friends. His new family, as the pirate identified them, not that he remembered any previous family.

The functional part of Fenris absently replied to the beardless dwarf. "The latter, I suppose..." He did not even look at Varric as he spoke the words. The rest of the group continued to talk and he retreated back into the ruminations that had him occupied since she touched him with her magic, all the while unable to take his eyes from her hand.

Content to let the others converse without him, despite the fact that they were discussing his affairs, he let the memory of her touch move to the front of his mind again. The memory was a wild thing inside him. He twitched his hand almost feeling her magic in it still. He had never felt anything like it. He wanted to feel it again. He had to feel more of it. He needed to understand it.

He watched Marian's full lips move as she continued to tell her friends about the past few days. Slavers. Danarius. The Kirkwall merchant. The brothel. The suspicious manor. He did notice that she kept glancing over at him, as if seeking permission to continue telling his story. He cared not and remained silent.

Feel it again. He had to feel it again. He struggled for words to make sense of it. Warm? Cool? Gentle? Soft? Pulsing? Tingling? Thrilling? He briefly squeezed his eyes shut and tried to grasp at the remembered sensation. He could taste it on his lips and smell it in his nostrils. It rang loudly in his ears and pounded with his heart in his chest. It was a powerful thing...powerful. That's it. 

Fenris knew he was strong. But powerful? Power was a thing controlled by others. He had been a slave. A slave is always at the mercy of his master's whims. But I am no longer a slave. He stretched his fingers; the lyrium there felt different. Powerful. How had he never felt it before? Like a slave, he had only ever felt helpless against the whim of the lyrium in his skin. Had her magic changed it somehow? He clenched his fist. Where was the familiar burn? In its place flowed power. He wanted more. He wanted to feel her hands all over him. Feel her magic chase away the burn of the lyrium. He wanted to have that power over himself, and over her. He wanted to claim her curves with his fingers, taste the salt on her skin. He wanted to capture her lips and feel her gasp in his mouth. He wanted to wrap himself around her and bury himself inside of her.

He realized he was speaking. "...then if Isabela is willing, she can scout ahead and determine the safest approach." He saw Hawke nod her head in agreement with him, but she wore a concerned expression. He looked to Isabela, who was smirking. He looked to Varric, who had one eyebrow raised. It was Varric who spoke next.

"I'd say we have a plan, then." he pulled his legs from the tabletop. "I'll let you know what I find out from the gossiping busybodies down at the merchant's guild. Rivaini, I'll catch up with you later. Hawke, Elf, you kids look tired, you should get some rest before we move on that manor." Pirate and dwarf both rose and left the table. Fenris did not hear what was said between them as they walked away and leaned close to each other.

"Can you blame him Rivaini? She's a force of nature..."


	10. Surrender

Hawke rose from the table and started walking slowly up to her room. Fenris quietly followed her. He had looked decidedly odd through their whole conversation. She had not thought he would be so accepting of Varric and Isabela's help, but he agreed to their plans easily enough and he did not interject once while Hawke was explaining his situation to them. She knew it was selfish of her, but she was relieved beyond measure to have part of her "family" again at her side. If Fenris was correct, and the Seekers were unable to infiltrate Minrathous, then she was not without hope that she could have something resembling a normal life again, and her friends would come to no harm.

She rounded the bend at the top of the stairs and just as she turned out of sight of the bar room below, Fenris abruptly grabbed her wrist. She caught her breath in surprise as he dragged her roughly along. He brought them into his room and slammed the door shut. There was no time for her to protest, because he spun her around in his grasp and dug his gauntleted fingers into her arms. He leaned down slightly to look her in the eyes and he was nearly shaking as he spoke to her in a strained voice, the brightness in his lyrium starting to rise.

"What magic did you use on me?" He pulled her closer, demanding an answer.

Disappointment and hurt welled up inside her. This is not okay, she thought. She had shown him every consideration and he was interrogating her again? "I thought we had moved passed mistrustful accusations, Fenris?" She spoke clearly and deliberately, not wanting him to mistake her kindness for weakness.

He suddenly let go of her and she stumbled. He stepped back but did not look away as he tore off his gauntlets and breastplate and pulled his tunic over his head.

Her eyes went wide. Maybe this is okay, she decided. He stepped towards her, closer this time. He grabbed her hand and held it against his bare chest. "Your magic…the spell…on my hand…do it again." It was a low rough whisper and she saw the pleading in his eyes that she had mistaken for anger.

"I…what…?" She couldn't find her words. He pressed her hand into the heat of his tanned skin and she tingled with need. She could feel the lyrium calling to the magic inside her, screaming to be joined. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the white brands spiraling his taut muscles. In a thousand days of sunsets and springtime, she did not think she would ever see anything as gloriously beautiful.

Speak, Hawke, you have to speak. "It..it was just a healing spell. I'm not even good at healing…" She was too addled to realize she had spoken to him in the common tongue, but he understood and replied to her in kind, his elegant northern accent doing nothing to help the weakness she was beginning to feel in her legs.

"Marian, I don't care what it was." As she was losing all control, he seemed to regain a bit of his own. "I just need to feel it again…please."

In that moment she could do nothing but comply. She closed her eyes and struggled for command over the ocean of her magic. He wanted to feel, not drown, so she had to master it despite his lyrium pulling like the moon pulls the tides. He was patiently silent but she could feel his heartbeat thump madly under her fingers. A dim white light appeared in her palm and she opened her eyes. The light spread out and mingled with the glowing lines of lyrium. She felt Fenris exhale and he lifted his head to the heavens; his mouth hung open as his hot breath escaped it. He turned his head back down to her and his eyes were feral pools of black. Hawke hesitated at the sight and the light of her spell dimmed. The corners of Fenris's mouth turned up just slightly into a semblance of a smile and he licked his lips, too closely resembling his namesake.

And then he was on her.

She felt everything all at once. Desperate hands clawed at her clothes. His smell of steel and leather surrounded her and she felt drunk on it. His lips, dear Maker, his lips tasted of lyrium. Then his breath burned on her ear and his intimate whisper pierced through the cry of the lyrium. "Tell me to stop..." he said even as his hands moved up the bare curve of her hip under her tunic and he bit along the angle of her jaw.

"Hnnn" was all she could whimper, eyes closed, head spinning.

Fenris stopped his frantic fingers and grabbed her head with both hands. He looked into her eyes. "This is your last chance, Marian." He spoke in an untamed growl. "Tell me to stop now or I swear it will be me who takes your freedom from you, not the Templars. You and your magic will belong to me."

The last strands of her control slipped through her fingers. She lifted her hands to his chest and she let loose her magic.

xxxx

Fenris felt the flare of her power pass into his brands. It felt...amazing. He heard a moan escape his own mouth and his hands closed around her silken black hair. He pulled her head back and suddenly his tongue needed to be on the pale skin of her throat, so it was. His teeth needed to bite the soft flesh of her shoulder, so they did. Her hands were still on his chest, her magic pushing against the ever present pain of his markings that pained him no longer.

He could feel her melt against him in surrender. He tore at each scrap of cloth that kept her skin from touching his and they fell to pieces on the floor. He stepped back to admire his reward. She was flushed and adorably shamed as his eyes caressed her despite her previous eager response to the caress of his lips and tongue. She tried to cover herself with her hands but he would not have it. He grabbed hold of her wrists. "No" he commanded. "Not yours any longer." He seized one breast in each hand, "Mine" he said, like a petulant child. She called out his name as he took one hardened tip in his mouth and fondled the other with his fingertips. Her hands clutched his hair and his scalp tingled at the touch. He needed more contact.

He lifted her off the floor and collapsed on top of her on the bed. He wanted every scarred line of lyrium etched into his body to make contact with her. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and he smelled orchids again. She whispered out soft broken sentences, and incoherent moans. In her blissful delirium, she had long since reverted to speaking in her native tongue and it was beautiful in his ears, separating her from every other mage whose words he was forced to endure in the past.

He panted and kissed as he spoke to her. "Your magic is mine now, your body is mine, only for me, I need...unhh...Marian... I need..." Fenris did not know where these things he was saying were coming from. It vaguely sounded like his voice, if not spoken in his language. He felt he was going mad with need and breaking apart with desire. His thoughts and actions were spiraling out of control but he saw no reason to deny himself this reckless ecstasy. The last coherent thought that formed in his head was that any man can want, but a free man can take.

xxxx

Never, never before had she relinquished her control to another. If asked, she would have said she did not know how. But now as she felt her body betray her, she struggled to remember any time before the rapture of surrender to the man above her. The invisible presence of her magic stretched and flexed around their bodies fed by and feeding his lyrium. He was a thing possessed as he touched and tasted her, stopping just long enough to remove himself from the last of the clothing that prevented her from feeling him where she needed him most.

She sensed his deft fingers stroke up the length of her leg and up and up and in...and in and she bucked up against him, stuttering words of pleading and begging for more. But she needn't have entreated so desperately because he was all too eager to comply and with one dominant thrust they were finally joined and her magic swelled in satisfaction.

She clung to him as he took her; her legs wrapped around his narrow hips, her hands kneading the rough lines of lyrium in sculpted muscle. It was all happening too fast, she was coming too fast, she didn't want it to end but he drove relentlessly in and in. She tossed her head and arched her back and stretched wide her legs and she was falling, falling.

Strong hands grasped her head and pulled it back down to the now. Green eyes wide open met hers. White hair was damp with sweat and full lips were smiling at her with unvoiced laughter. She wanted to bring him into focus, but she didn't want to stop the fall. He saw her struggle and stilled inside her. He spoke through his smile "Look at me. Let me see..." and he started to move again. She twisted and writhed but his hands forced her eyes to meet his and he never stopped driving inside her. Her breath came to her ragged and rough, her body was full but her magic was draining to empty. The green eyes and sly smile spoke to her again and said "Let go" and she did and she fell in a sublime release that brazen green eyes forced her to show him. She contracted and convulsed her climax unable to hide from him but it was he who was unable to hold her gaze on the last thrust that caused his own fall and he closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers whispering her name.

In the quite dark stillness, two spent bodies clung to each other, the static of magic and lyrium still lingering in the air. Marian's mind slowed and as the weight of her lithe lover slowly collapsed atop her, she felt herself be pushed into the Fade.

xxxx

Marian Hawke sat on the banks of a wide river with black water looking up into a red sky. The air of the Fade was thick and the sound of lapping water muffled. She felt the presence of someone behind her and saw loose blond hair fall forward as he leaned in to whisper to her "Whether you believe it or not, I did love you."

She was expressionless as she continued to stare into the distant red sky. "You loved the idea of me. I was who you wanted to be. A free mage who answered to no one."

Anders laughed with the ease she remembered well. "A free mage who didn't use magic!"

She smiled at the thought of where her body lay sleeping. "I used plenty of magic tonight."

"For him"

"For him. For me. It never felt more..effortless. He asked for it. He wasn't afraid of it, and now, neither am I."

She looked at the broad shouldered man who once shared her bed, who had entered the Fade at the end of her blade. He looked back and shared an innocent smile with her. "So that elf taught you what I could not."

She simply nodded her head and looked out across the water.

Anders sighed and pointed down the riverbank at a tall elf walking towards them. "He's coming you know."

"Then you should go." Hawke saw his form disappear into the heavy air and heard his laughter fade on the hot breeze. She turned to Fenris, who sat down beside her. His tan skin was smooth and unscarred by the lyrium it carried in the real world and his hair was black like midnight, like hers. The same green eyes looked at her with many unspoken questions.

"You have black hair" She grinned and reached up to run it through her fingers.

"And no lyrium..." He replied as he held up his hands and stared at them in wonder. "Is this your dream?"

"It seems it's yours too."

"I don't have dreams like this." He looked puzzled, but asked for no further information.

"Neither do I usually."

"Who were you speaking with when I approached?"

"This is the Fade, love. It was just another demon..."

xxxx

Fenris opened his eyes. He had been staring at black water under a red sky. He took a deep breath and felt Marian stir where she lay on his chest. He tried to still her movement with his arms, not wanting her to separate from him. She complied and tilted her head up to look at him instead. He said nothing and just stared back at her. She furrowed her brow and broke the silence.

"How do you feel Fenris?" she asked.

A long bit of time passed as she waited for his answer. His mind was curiously blank and he almost could not think of what to say when it suddenly occurred to him. He started laughing. He laughed deep and loud and with a broad smile on his face he said "I feel free."


	11. Memory

The sun rose and set and rose again. The Hawke and the Wolf were oblivious to the passage of time and all thoughts of hunters and prey were set aside for the moment. Fenris studied the slivers of light sneaking through gaps in the shuttered window. For the better part of the past hour he lay there watching the light turn from yellow to orange to the red of early evening, all while his Hawke traced the patterns of lyrium with her fingers, and sometimes with her mouth, along his body.

"Have you memorized them yet?" Fenris asked, amused at her concentration. A mess of tangled black hair lifted up from his right leg revealing dark eyes and red lips pursed into a frown.

"That isn't what I was doing." The frown deepened.

"Yes, it was. You are the most painfully obvious woman I've ever encountered." The frowned morphed into a pout. "It's endearing." The pout morphed into a smile. He reached out to twist a few loose strands of her hair between his fingers where they tumbled down her shoulder.

"Do they change often?" She asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"I noticed that the lines change. It's very subtle, but they do. Did you never notice? Sometimes wider, sometimes thinner, a small shift, a little deeper in some places or barely there in others, but they're always slightly different." She hesitated to say what came next. "I daresay, that's what contributes to the pain..." It was said so softly it almost wasn't said.

He was shocked. He never had noticed. "I try not to look at them." His voice was tight in his chest and he felt Marian tense beside him, regretting what she had reminded him of. He twined her hand with his in reassurance. "Ask your questions. I will answer if I can."

She had clearly been waiting for him to give his permission. Little did she know she could have asked him to assassinate the Black Divine atop the Argent Spire and he would have done it smiling. Sharing what he knew about himself was far lesser a request and he found it troubled him not at all. "If you can?" She twisted her still naked body around and straddled him, sitting on his stomach, hands perched on his chest.

"I was an adolescent when I received my markings but I don't know exactly how old. My memories start then. Every day after that is not worth remembering until yesterday when I dragged you into this room." He propped his arms behind his head, unable to hold in a satisfied smirk.

"It was the day before yesterday, actually. If we stay in here much longer our enemies will have rallied." Fenris was aware of the fact that she was still allowing him one revelation about himself at a time. Many old wounds had melted away over the past hours in this room with Marian, but he still appreciated her respect for the ones that lingered. All in time.

Marian continued, "No rest for the wicked afterall." But she didn't try to get up, in fact she threw herself down on his chest.

"Are you referring to them or us?" He felt her muffled laughter against his chest and closed his eyes to savor the feeling of her breath on his skin. Fenris thought he heard the faintest of footfalls outside the door. "Speaking of wicked, the pirate is at the door. The dwarf is with her."

Marian stirred, "What...?"

"Hey, Elf! Put it back in your pants and let Hawke come out to play. Or keep your pants off and let me come in to play!" Isabela shouted and banged on the door.

Marian pushed herself off of Fenris. "She's very good at concealing her steps. I'm impressed you heard her coming."

"Yes, so no need to cry out my name quite so loudly next time. I promise I will hear you." He kissed the tongue she stuck out at him and then flipped her over on the bed, climbing out from underneath her. He was dressed in moments. Marian stood, meaning to do the same, but only made it as far as looking down at the ravaged remains of her clothing.

"This is your fault." She admonished as she pointed at the torn remnants on the floor. He smiled broadly, picked up his sword and walked to the door. By the time he stepped through and shut it behind him, he had stifled the boyish grin and replaced it with his well worn stoic mask of indifference.

"Is Hawke coming?" Isabela asked as Fenris walked passed her. He noted a depraved smile and a lewd tone to her voice, but he did just leave his lover naked in his room with no clothes so he was in no place to criticize.

"She will be following shortly." He mumbled as he started down the hallway. Varric fell into step next to him.

"Sooo, you're looking better than last we met." Fenris rolled his eyes and reached up to pull his hood low when he realized he had not even bothered to put it on. It somehow seemed unimportant now. "You were looking a bit peckish the other night..." Fenris didn't respond and kept walking down the stairs. "...taste good, did she?" Fenris stopped. Varric stepped casually past him.

"You have no idea." He suddenly realized he had spoken aloud.

Varric laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I can imagine, Elf."

Fenris followed after him. "I would prefer if you did not" he said with a very intentional edge.

xxxx

After slipping into her own room, hoping no one noticed her lack of clothing, Hawke got dressed and joined the others downstairs. She wore her familiar leathers and her beloved daggers were strapped to her hips. Her father's staff was slung across her back and it felt comfortable there. Her magic felt comfortable inside her and for possibly the first time, she felt no desire to hide it.

Clever Varric noticed the change in her when she sat down next to Fenris. She saw it in his eyes, but he said nothing. Isabela threw back a shot of something that was an odd green color and slammed the glass back down to the table next to a bottle full of said liquid. "Since when do you use a staff, kitten? These fancy magisters rubbing off on you?"

Hawke shrugged her shoulders, not feeling it necessary to share her deeper revelations. "We're in Tevinter. It's time I fought fire with fire. So what did we find out?"

"Well lovers," Isabela leered at her and Fenris. "While you two were shagging, I found a way into that manor. Did you know that most of the high and mighty mansions here have cellars that lead into the catacombs below the city?"

Fenris spoke up. "They were originally created by the cults worshiping the old gods. Now they are used mostly as secret passages. Only a very foolish magister would go without a concealed means of escape in the event of a seige."

Hawke pictured a dusty old magister crawling through a dank catacomb in a desperate attempt to preserve his own life. "A seige? You make them sound like kings in castles."

Fenris scoffed. "And why not? That is what they think they are." He was unable to bite back the bitterness in the statement. Hawke noticed his fist clench. She shifted her leg under the table to rub gently against his and he relaxed his fingers.

"I didn't see any escaping magisters, but I did see a few groups of ragged looking prisoners, possibly newly captured slaves, all bound together being shuffled inside through those catacombs." Isabela's distaste was obvious.

"While they're bringing slaves in the back door, I can tell you they're hauling lyrium out of the front door and shipping it off to Kirkwall." Varric interjected. "That merchant's name is Cassian. He has a nice mansion back in Hightown, been there for years, but kept quiet mostly. He's the second son of some noble family here, not a mage, and apparently that made him the second and the lesser son. He came to the Marches, opened up a small trading operation. He moved miscellaneous goods, nothing provocative, to some of the smaller cities in Tevinter; that is until recently when he cancelled all of his old contracts and bought himself a fancy new fleet to trade exclusively in Minrathous with the magister who now has your target on his chest." He nodded to Hawke and took a sip of ale as his companions absorbed the information.

Hawke looked over at Fenris who seemed surprised by what Varric and Isabela had accomplished while he was otherwise occupied. She puffed out her chest a little with pride in her friends. "How did you manage to learn all of these things?" He asked seeming to address both Isabela and Varric at once.

The dwarf answered with a self-satisfied grin. "One- Isabela is sneaky." Taking her cue, the pirate raised her glass again in salutations and downed another shot. "Two- I'm charming. Three- we used some of Hawke's coin to bribe the right people. Don't bother yourself with feeling bad, she's rich, and I've taken good care of her gold over the years."

"I am...impressed. And grateful for the assistance." Fenris's words were genuine.

"Don't mention it Elf. All her gold won't help her if the chantry zealots get their hands on her, so we're grateful she has someone else on her side."

Hawke rolled her eyes and groaned out loud at all the touching sentiment. "Yes, yes we're all very helpful. But, we still don't know the most important bits. Who are they selling all this lyrium to and what are they getting in exchange? It can't just be a few slaves," She turned to Fenris, "and how does re-capturing you fit into this operation? Why does he need you back so desperately?"

Now that she knew what to look for, Hawke saw the nearly imperceptible shift in the exposed markings on Fenris's neck. They were not glowing, just...different. Maybe she felt it more than saw it. He was uncomfortable...or uneasy somehow. She did not think he was deliberately keeping anything from them. It was more likely he had a bad gut feeling about something and did not want to divulge the painful details of the history behind his intuition.

All in time, she told herself. She smiled at the others, beaming from ear to ear at the prospect of some real excitement...that didn't involve being naked with her elf. Intrigue, righting wrongs, killing evil things; she could hardly wait. "I think it's time we go have some fun."


	12. Mages

"This is a sewer grate Rivaini." Varric did not seem impressed.

"Did you expect a highway paved in gold and good intentions?" Hawke asked him as she pushed the dwarf aside to help Fenris lift the heavy stone grate worn smooth with age.

"Listen here Tethras, if you'd like to try to talk your way past the heavily armed guards at the front gate, be my guest." Isabela poked Varric in the chest hair with one accusatory finger as she spoke. "The rest of us will make use of the element of surprise." Daggers in hand she artfully jumped down through the hole. Hawke saw her land effortlessly on her feet and without missing a step she started walking forward into the darkness below.

"Fine" He grumbled, still none too happy. Varric handed Hawke his crossbow before he also lowered himself down. Hawke looked over the weapon.

"Bianca, you're looking well." She said softly as she stroked the well polished wood.

"Are you speaking to the crossbow?" Fenris asked, though she noted he did not seem surprised.

"No fondling Hawke, you know she doesn't like a tease." Varric yelled up from below and Hawke passed Bianca down to him.

To Fenris she said "I know it's a little silly, but he's called it by that name as long as I've known him and that crossbow has saved my life more than once. It's as if she's also a friend."

"I can respect that." Fenris looked down into the sewer at Varric who was dusting himself off. "Every good weapon should have a name and I'm sure I've met more weapons that were worthy of being called 'friend' than people." He passed his sword down to Varric and disappeared below.

"I knew you'd fit right in" Hawke said with a smile and she plunged into the darkness. She landed knee deep in water that seemed too viscous to just be water. She decided not to dwell too much on that. Their only light was whatever dim moonbeams managed to travel this far down through sewer openings in the street above them. They followed single file in the narrow passage letting Isabela wind them around and about. Hawke got the impression that they were descending. Worn pavement stones and rancid water eventually turned into rough hewn rock walls and they soon found themselves covered in cobwebs and wading through the remnants of ancient skeletons that were long since left to dissolve back into the dust.

When the moonlight faded, Hawke manifested a shimmering orb of light in her hand and she held it aloft, illuminating their way. The passages were opening up wider now and Fenris walked beside her and leaned in to whisper, "These are the true catacombs that were used for burials. We will soon come to larger spaces used by the cults for gathering and worship." He reached out to brush aside a sheet of cobwebs as they rounded a bend.

Isabela slowed and turned to speak to them. "We're coming close to where our "friends" are using some of those gathering spaces as slave pens. I wasn't able to see much, but I can tell you the slaves they had weren't from the markets. Something about them was off."

The group slowed their pace and silenced their footfalls. As they moved forward the tunnels gave way to larger rooms of brick and ceilings braced with wooden beams. With each step a sensation of unease crept into Hawke's chest. Her magic felt as if it was flickering hesitantly inside her instead of burning brightly. She looked over at Fenris who had stopped to roll his shoulders and stretch his hands.

"My magic feels odd. Are you alright?" She asked him and she saw his markings faintly glow. Isabela and Varric seemed unaffected and did not even notice the two behind them had paused.

"I...they feel...I don't know..." Fenris studied his hands and clenched his fists several times. He shook his head. "It's nothing, I'm fine. We should move on."

They followed Isabela's circuitous route and Hawke's disquiet continued to grow. Fenris had long since taken his sword in hand and he held it ready before him, his eyes nervous, his ears perked. Eventually they came to a passage lit by torches with strong oak double doors at the end. Hawke put out her light and rested her hands on the daggers at her hips, gaining a bit of comfort from their familiar feel.

Isabela stopped and gestured for them to gather together. She whispered, "Those doors up ahead, they're keeping some of the slaves in there, and beyond that the passages lead into the manor. There were guards last time, but I didn't see how many."

Hawke was getting frustrated with this feeling of anxiety. "There's no way to slip in there quietly, so I vote we blast the doors in, clean out the room nice and quick and ask questions later."

Varric rolled his eyes and spoke to her with his unique brand of biting sarcasm. "Yes Hawke but, as much as we all just love your usual finesse how about we try something new and actually plan out our attack a little." He turned to Fenris "You see Elf, usually Hawke charges in like the vanguard and we're stuck scrambling to keep up and trying to stay alive."

Hawke wasn't in the mood for jokes. "Fine," she said, the virtue of patience having always been lost on her. "I'll blast the doors, Fenris will take out the first wave with his sword, you cover him with Bianca and Isabela will keep any that make it past the two of you off me so I can cast from the rear. Is that enough of a plan for you?" She strode forward with determined steps, the air around her hands wavered with the energy forming there. The others quickly took their places, with Fenris and Varric at opposite sides of the doors and Isabela next to her, daggers ready. Hawke tried to ignore the foreboding feeling that rose inside her when she realized she had to pull very deep to manifest her powers.

xxxx

Fenris felt Marian's magic blast past him and suddenly the closed doors were nothing but splinters flying through the air. He charged into the large room, quickly taking stock of the enemy. There were maybe a dozen men in armor and all of the walls were lined with cages behind which cowered many more dozens of slaves. The first guard to regain his wits and realize they were being attacked drew his axe on Fenris and brought back nothing but a bloody stump thanks to a sweep of the elf's greatsword. Fenris took down two more in quick succession. Another suddenly fell before him and he noticed a bolt from Bianca sat between dead eyes.

Just as Fenris turned to continue cutting his way through the room he saw a flash of silver armor and heard Isabela cry in a harsh voice, "Hawke! Templars!"

His lyrium flared madly and his body moved before the words were out of the pirate's mouth. Marian was still standing in the doorway and he saw the fire she had poised in her outstretched hands flicker and then die out in a puff of black smoke as one of the Templars stunned the magic from her body. She stumbled back slightly but did not lose her footing. She pulled her daggers as the knight made to charge her with his sword. Fenris intercepted him and with a massive swing of his steel, two halves of the once living body of the Templar fell before Marian.

Their eyes met for just a brief moment, and then she was running headlong into the room spinning herself behind a guard who was advancing on Varric. She slit his throat in one smooth movement. Reckless woman, Fenris thought as he chased after her. Before he could get to her, he saw another Templar shout and hurl himself onto her and the two of them landed together on the floor, her daggers clattering out of her reach. Fenris dropped his own blade and launched towards the man who was poised to land a fist in Marian's face. Fenris tackled him with his shoulder and now it was the knight who was helpless with an enemy on top of him. Fenris raised one hand and felt his lyrium pulse but instead of his fist passing through flesh his gauntlet only struck against the other man's breastplate. He had no time to wonder why his lyrium had failed him. The armored Templar was trying violently to buck out from under Fenris. Changing tactics immediately, Fenris let his fists fall on the face of his opponent. Wild anger swelled inside him as blood spattered in his eyes and he struck the man again and again. He had a mage he wanted to protect now; his mage that he needed to keep safe and this Chantry pawn had dared to threaten her. He was about to land another blow when small familiar hands grabbed his arm from behind.

"Fenris, stop." And he did. He looked around the room as Marian gently pulled him off of what appeared to be their last remaining adversary. The man pushed himself backwards and struggled to his feet grasping at a discarded sword on the ground and standing ready with it.

"Let me." Marian said with a terrifying edge to her soft voice. Before the Templar could silence her, she had him in the grasp of her magic. Fenris watched her just stand there, arms relaxed at her sides, eyes unblinking. She and the armored man faced each other still as statues. Slowly the man's face began to change. Eyes wide, teeth grinding with effort, he let his sword fall uselessly beside him. A pained moan escaped through his clenched jaw and he brought his hands up to his head clutching at his ears. A thin stream of blood escaped his nose and matching crimson tears bled from his eyes. With a final pathetic gasp, he fell lifeless to the floor.

xxxx

Hawke let out a long slow breath and closed her eyes. She opened them and saw her three companions gaping at the results of her unfettered magic. She felt tremulous and she struggled to beat back the fear that streaked through her like lightning after the Templar's assault. She could fight a hundred Arishoks with solid and unwavering resolve, but fighting Templars always made her blood run cold at the thought of just how much losing would cost her. Fenris's hand came slowly up her back and he grasped behind her neck, drawing her into his chest. "You're safe." She heard him say in her ear though it was barely even loud enough to be a whisper. Her heartbeat slowed to match his and she was calmed.

She pulled herself away from Fenris and heard Varric address her hesitantly. "Hawke...did you learn a new trick? I don't recall ever seeing you do..." he pointed to the dead Templar "...whatever that was."

"You haven't seen me do a lot of things." She said in reply. Fenris had seen exactly what Varric saw, and yet he didn't question her, his first instinct had been to comfort her. The realization that he could so readily accept even the darkest corner of her magic gave her the confidence to own it. "I am a very powerful mage Varric." She announced it to the empty air as if in warning for those enemies they had yet to face.

"I don't know what's scarier Hawke, the fact that you just killed a Templar with your eyes, or the glowing Elf swinging that giant sword around." He slung Bianca onto his back as he addressed Fenris. "You nearly took off my head a few times with that weapon, you know. And are those tattoos filled with lyrium? Something you and Hawke neglected to mention? That you're a walking swirling pool of magic?"

"I am no mage Dwarf." The words were heavy and deliberate and Fenris seemed to be measuring whether Varric was accusing him of something or simply curious.

Hawke stepped in. "He was branded against his will, Varric. It's nothing like Meredith or Bartrand. The lyrium is a part of him, he controls it."

Varric's trust in Hawke was unfailing. She saw him relax and extend a hand to Fenris. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I...we have bad history with people...and lyrium." To his credit, Fenris remembered the stories Hawke had told him about their "history" with people and lyrium and he shook Varric's hand.

Isabela caught her attention as she waved a set of keys in the air. "Catch" She said and she threw them at Hawke. "Search the rest of the Templars, there are a lot of cages here, they must have more keys." Hawke took in the sight that she had been blocking from her vision as she fought. Men and women, elves and humans sat huddled in the far corners of the cages that lined the walls. She ran to the closest one, keys in hand and fumbled at the lock. The others had managed to scavenge their own keys from the bodies and were doing the same. The lock gave way and she pulled open the door. A painfully thin young human man walked on unsteady feet and took Hawke's hand in assistance as she helped him out into the room.

And suddenly she knew. She looked all around at the "slaves" that were slowly creeping out of their prisons. She looked over at Fenris, his lyrium lit, and saw that he knew it too. "They're all mages..."


	13. Suspicion

"The templars, they were holding back our magic." The young man let Hawke help him down to sit on the floor.

"I know. I felt it as we approached but I couldn't tell what it was until...well, until they attacked me." Hawke looked around at the haggard mages surrounding them. They wouldn't have been able to use magic if they tried. They all looked to be starved and some wore bruises and half healed wounds.

"Marian, these are Andrastian templars." Fenris rolled over the one Hawke had killed with his boot to expose the heraldry on his chest. "Why would they be in the Imperium, let alone in this place?"

The mage on the floor weakly answered him. "The Templar order is in chaos outside of Tevinter. Some factions have left the Chantry entirely..."

It hit Varric first and he stepped forward to finish, "But they have to get their lyrium fix from somewhere don't they? Orzammar isn't going to do business with random rogue templars and threaten their trade deals with Orlais..."

Hawke took over for Varric, "So they're getting it from Danarius and his little merchant-minion Cassian? In exchange for what? These mages? Why?" Hawke saw a fleeting look of worry pass Fenris's face and he turned his eyes away brooding over whatever answer to her questions concerned him so.

Another of the captive mages joined the discussion. He was an older elf, in the robes of a Circle enchanter, though barely recognizable as such covered in dirt and blood as they were. "Most of those here fled the circle in Kirkwall thinking they might finally have their freedom only to be hunted by these templars and brought to this place. They would have been better off safely tucked inside the walls of the Circle; where they could be still if not for your ruinous intervention Serah Hawke."

"What?" Hawke narrowed her eyes at the accusation and both she and Fenris moved unconsciously a step closer to the mage.

"I know who you are, I was there when the Chantry was destroyed and I was there to see it all unravel long after you abandoned your brethren!" The elf's bitterness was no doubt magnified by being nothing but a captive both in the old order of things and the new.

Hawke clenched her fists and held her magic down. "You would have been annulled if it weren't for me."

Fenris's arm came across her chest from behind and he pulled gently back on her, away from the hateful glare of the former enchanter. "This gets us nowhere" he scolded her. To the other elf he said, "She has now given you your life back twice, mage. Take it and go from here." His tone left no opening for argument.

Hawke struggled to swallow her anger and had nothing to chase it down with but regret. "All of you are free to leave, but none of you are in any condition to go out the way we came in." She spoke with all of the authority she could muster. "We are going to clear out the mansion above us and I swear no one up there is ever going to capture anyone again. We will return to help you when it's safe." She pulled away from Fenris, retrieved her daggers and walked away from the wretched sight of what her actions had wrought, however indirectly.

The large room opened out into a long hallway which she followed with quick steps, eager to get on with killing things. Up ahead she saw a tall ladder attached to a dead end wall with a small door in the ceiling above. This must lead to the cellars. Finally. She would feel better after more fighting.

Fenris caught up with her and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She could still hear Varric and Isabela in the large room speaking confident words of reassurance to the traumatized mages.

"Marian, we need to talk." His face was a concerned mask that made her uneasy. She remained silent and let him continue. "The magisters are not above enslaving their own, especially if they see it as a means to an end; typically a very self-serving end." She couldn't read his intent in the statement. Did he mean this as a warning to her?

"Danarius. He was collecting these mages for a reason." He shifted his weight, clearly not wanting to put a voice to his suspicions. "I know he has experimented on others before. He himself told me more than once about the many subjects he went through attempting to perfect the lyrium branding ritual before he performed it on me." His lips curled into a sneer, "Perhaps he thought I should feel honored."

She cupped her hand to his cheek and gently traced the line of lyrium on his chin with her thumb before she said, "Do you know what experiments he would need mages for?"

"I do not. Nor do I know why he would involve himself with templars outside the Imperium. Someone of his standing and position would have resources readily available, be it subjugated mages or the templars to control them."

Any further speculation was interrupted by Varric and Isabela coming down the hall. Isabela wore an expression that looked every bit like a captain trying to pull her ship through a storm. "Hawke we need to get control of this situation fast and clean out whatever's upstairs so we can get those mages out of here before some of them start to...turn."

Varric nodded in agreement. "Maybe we should have left one of those templars alive..."

"Not funny Varric." Hawke mumbled as she gestured for Fenris to go up the ladder first. He started climbing and she followed right behind. He had swung back the ceiling door and climbed halfway through when she felt it one moment too late. The rune he must have tripped activated. She had just enough time to kick Isabela off the ladder to safety with Varric tumbling after her. Simultaneously she grabbed hold of Fenris's ankle and hung on as the two of them were sucked into a vortex.

xxxx

When the world re-materialized around them, they were somewhere else. Fenris felt disoriented. He lay flat on his back on the floor and Marian's hand had a death grip on his ankle. She let go and stood, taking in their surroundings. She did not seem surprised. He propped himself on his elbow trying to clear his head and realized he was without his sword.

She was generous enough to spare him a few words of explanation. "Trap. In case one of the mages attempted escape. They planted a rune that would automatically transport a person to...here." She walked around and as he followed her with his eyes their situation became clear. They were inside a small cell behind iron bars and a locked gate. It looked as if they were in the basements, alone. Outside the bars he could see stacked crates and barrels. "Don't worry; we're at least inside the mansion now. Runes like that can't move people very far." She continued to pace, eyes full of tactical calculation. "No weapons. No staff. Varric and Isabela are still on the outside."

Fenris rose and let his lyrium ignite. He pressed his hands to the bars and pushed. He felt the familiar sting of matter giving way against him as he passed through the metal. Whatever it was that prevented him from crushing the heart of the templar earlier no longer appeared to be affecting him. When he was on the other side he looked at Marian. Her arms were crossed upon her chest and one eyebrow was raised in intrigue. He gave her a cunning smile.

"For many reasons Fenris, not the least of which is your cheeky temperament, I find it hard to believe you were ever a slave. How exactly does one keep a slave in check who can, quite literally, escape from bondage at will?"

He still marveled at the fact that if anyone else had said those things to him he might have killed them, but not her. The answer to her question brought back stray memories of harshly taught lessons and old abuses he would just as soon forget. But in the here and now, standing before Marian and thinking of her touch, the pain of the past seemed so much less acute.

"You don't want to know" he replied darkly. Fenris began to search for something that would help him free Marian from the cell.

"Ah, no need" She held her hand up to him and he stopped. With a flourish she produced a lock pick from its hiding place stuffed in the top of her boot and skillfully picked the lock on the gate. She swung it open and made a show of taking a small bow. "Pirate friends, remember?"

All he offered as a reply was a condescending "Mmm." He brought up their next obvious obstacle. "We are still without our weapons."

"I hardly think, of all people, you and I really need weapons to cause trouble?" She rubbed her fingertips together and sparks of lightning crackled from them. He let his lyrium flare brightly in response. "But if I don't get my father's staff back after all this, I'm going to kill these fools twice."

xxxx

The interior of the manor was a sprawling maze of corridors and endless rooms. They moved quickly through, a terrifying and formidable pair, cutting down an odd assortment of slavers, a few remaining templars and any other civilians unfortunate enough to have sought employment in the ranks of the magister filth that was behind all of this. There was no sign that Varric and Isabela had yet found another way upstairs to join them.

They had swept away most of the armed guards on the first and second floors, leaving only a few cowering slaves behind in the kitchens. More people to come back to help later. Hawke was keeping a mental count of non-combatants that would need dealt with somehow when their job here was done. It was a mixture of captive mages and commonplace slaves. Could she simply let them walk away from here with their freedom? Freedom was a tenuous thing in Minrathous, and not something it seemed many were able to hold onto without the strength to fight for it. "You abandoned your brethren..." The words that were spit at her, full of bile and hate, still clawed like an animal at her heart and she desperately wanted to make them less true.

She and Fenris reached the top of the stairs to the third floor. They found themselves on a wide landing with doors all around them. Their only light was the white of his lyrium, and it was warm emanating from him. Hawke felt the lingering tendrils of blood magic roil the atmosphere.

Fenris's face twisted into a scowl of absolute abhorrence and her magic heard his markings scream out into the darkness. "I know this magic!" His words, deep and feral, thundered in the air mingling with the dark sorcery. Before she knew what was happening the doors all burst open at once and every manner of demon and fade creature descended upon them.


	14. Satisfcation

Marian sent out a shockwave throwing back the first row of demon spawn. Fenris had acquired two borrowed swords on their path through the manor and with lyrium fueled rage he now brandished both of them mowing down the second row. It's her, it's her, it's HER, he chanted in his head. As soon as he had felt the sickening misery that was her magic, as soon as he smelled its caustic stench, something tore open inside of him. Violent hatred poured out of the tear in his very soul and he was electrified in anticipation of finally getting to rip that bitch to shreds.

The two of them fought back the Fade monsters in a savage mess of ichor, ash and blood. Fenris was vaguely aware that Marian saw the change in him. A small part of him wondered what she thought of the tortured smile on his face; of the sight of him salivating like a rabid dog at the thought that on the other side of these demons was Hadriana. And he could smell her fear.

The cool waves of Marian's magic enveloped him. She was trying to calm him, fortify him, heal him but he would not have it. His lyrium pushed back at her magic, burning brighter and shutting out everything besides his hate. The hoard of demons was thinning now, and Fenris advanced through one of the doors; his eyes and ears wildly searching for his prey. He was in a suite of rooms that had clearly recently been used for ritual blood magic. Barricades had been hastily positioned against doors and magical wards were sparking and crackling as the lyrium in his limbs pushed them aside. He was hurling furniture out of his path when Marian came up behind him. Her hesitant hand hovered near his arm but she dared not touch him.

"Fenris," He heard his name, but it was muffled by his wrath and he threw another chair across the room. "Fenris," again he heard and this time she grabbed hold of his arm. Where she touched him the lyrium died into dullness and he actually felt it shift in his arm, just like she had told him it did. He stilled his body and the pounding of his heart stilled with it.

He took a breath and looked at her. She saw him start to come back into his sanity and continued to speak. "Do you know the mage responsible for all this? This magic feels vile." She stepped back from him and seemed to concentrate on the air around them.

"Her name is Hadriana. She was Danarius's apprentice. She is vile. And I'm going to rip out her heart." That was as much as he could bear to tell her right now. He resumed clearing their path.

"This is not the magic of an apprentice. We must not take her lightly. There are others with her, I can tell. Other mages...other demons...helping her." He paused briefly and nodded his head once in acknowledgement. He would not be reckless, but no number of mages or demons was going to save her from him. She seemed to accept his determination, but she also offered him a warning.

"Only the living know victory, Fenris."

xxxx

Hawke followed Fenris as they moved through an unnatural labyrinth of rooms and hallways. The veil was thin and out of the corner of her eye she would occasionally catch a ripple of the Fade peaking through into the real world. She knew they were being led around a path manipulated by magic, but Fenris would not be deterred or diverted. She breathed evenly in and out, in and out. She focused on her control. She was going to have to be the rock to still Fenris's crashing waves if they were to win this battle.

They kept turning endless corners and she felt as if they and part of this edifice had actually been pulled partly into the Fade. Half formed walls, staircases suspended in air and broken bits of mundane household items were all twisted and made strange by having passed through the veil. They eventually came to a black wall that seemed to stretch infinitely in every direction, the expanse broken only by a single narrow door in front of them.

"She's here" Fenris snarled and he kicked open the door. The black wall faded away and the scene shifted around them in a cloud of mist. For the first time ever, Hawke wished she had her father's staff in her hands. She called forth her magic in readiness as the mist cleared.

They were surrounded. There were half a dozen mages with half a dozen different spells swirling around their staves, and behind them was a tall woman in the robes of a magister and a pride demon looming behind her. A horrible nauseating laughter escaped the woman's red lips as she addressed Fenris.

"Welcome home, little wolf."

xxxx

Fenris realized it was not a boast what Marian had told Varric about her power. Of all the mages in the room, she was the first to act. She seemed to throw out several spells all at once. He saw walls of rock shoot up from the floor blocking the line of sight of the enemy mages. Columns of flame fell downward from somewhere above them and licked at Hadriana's underlings. And she spared a spell for him. This time he allowed it and he felt fortified and his mind cleared.

Fenris saw Hadriana shrink into the distance and the pride demon advanced on them, lesser shades materializing around it. In sharp contrast to the determined madness of moments ago that drove him here, Fenris now felt as if he was the very being of control. He owned his actions; he owned his lyrium and demons fell against the sharp precision of his attacks. Even as he used it, he knew this control was not his. Not when that depraved harpy was just within his grasp and the animal inside him begged to tear her apart. Marian was sharing her control with him and stealing away the unstable vexation that filled him.

The two of them were holding back the assault but he knew they were not gaining any ground. He looked to Marian, concentration carved like stone on her face, black eyes now red with fire, sweat dripping from strands of loose hair as she used her power with her bare hands, no staff to aid her, to hold back the magic of their enemies and strengthen him at the same time. The pride demon seemed to recognize what mage in this room would satisfy it the most and the thing began to focus on Marian. He could hear the dark whispers of desperate pleas and demon promises. Marian stopped her casting and her eyes went back to black as she stared down the demon. Fear suddenly gripped Fenris as he felt her magic recede from him. She's resisting he thought, but for how long?

He ran towards her, not really knowing how he was going to intervene. He leapt into the air thinking he was going to throw himself at the demon, but in midair he heard her voice thunder all around them.

"No" She said and the pride demon was thrown back to the corner behind where Hadriana stood. Fenris landed atop Marian instead and his arms went around her as they landed on the floor where he rolled them behind the temporary safety of one of the protruding rocks.

He grabbed her shoulders. "Are you alright?" his voice sounded more frightened than he had the intention of showing.

The insane woman in his arms actually smiled at him. "I'm fine." She was calm personified. If he was a different person he would have feared for their enemy in that moment. But he wasn't, and he didn't. "Fenris, I can end this now. I can do something that will send the demon back into the fade and...incapacitate the mages here." There was something she wasn't telling him and he gave her a look that told her she needed to come out with it.

Meanwhile, the mages had apparently regrouped and Marian had just enough time to disperse a wave of lighting directed at the rock that shielded them. "Look," she spoke hurriedly "when the mages in this room go down, just be ready to kill them all no matter what, alright?" Another wave of lighting came, this time shattering their cover. He grabbed her and rolled them behind another obstacle.

"Fine, I'll be ready." He did not like surprises.

"Can you keep them off of me for just a few moments?"

He nodded and jumped out from cover. He darted around shades and spells and tried to throw back the hoard that was trying to close in on Marian. He kept one eye on her as he was fighting and he saw her start casting a spell. The lines of an intricate rune lit with blue light started to form on the ground beneath where she crouched. Her eyes were closed and her lips moved in a silent chant. He turned to cut down another shade and when he turned back to her, the rune was complete and she stood to her full, though slight, height. She extended one arm, hand out, fingers spread wide. She opened her eyes and when her fist closed he heard a loud and resonant deep boom and he felt as if the breath was knocked from his chest. His lyrium flared brightly in response and he recovered quickly. Not so for everyone else in the room.

The mages were collapsed on the ground, grasping at their chests and seeming to choke for air. The lesser demons screamed and then were sucked away. Their strange surroundings twisted and morphed back into the semblance of a normal room with solid walls. The demon of pride shook and shuddered and then it too seemed to get sucked back through the rapidly closing veil. Fenris hesitated at the sight of what was happening until he noticed that Marian was also prostrate on the ground clutching at her chest her face a shock of agony.

He moved quickly to assist her, but she held out a hand to stop him and managed a hoarse plea. "Kill them, Fenris, hurry..."

He came back to his senses and shot into action. In six fluid movements, six mages lay dead on the floor. A sword through a chest, two severed heads, a heart outside its body and two broken necks and then there was just one left.

xxxx

Hawke had closed the veil and temporarily severed them all from the Fade. She was starting to recover from having her magic ripped from her just as Fenris finished off the last of the magister's apprentices. She saw him pause and then stalk towards the still prone and choking form of Hadriana. Hawke rose on unsteady feet and was able to stagger over to the two adversaries. The other woman saw Fenris coming and started scrambling backwards on the floor until her back was against the wall.

Fenris towered over her and to Hawke it looked as if he was savoring the feeling. If she was a different person she would have pitied the fear she saw in his prey's eyes. But she wasn't, and she didn't. He reached down slowly and grabbed her by the neck lifting her partially up from the floor. She saw him slowly flex his muscles around her throat as she clawed madly at his gauntlet.

Hawke could feel waves of satisfaction emanating from him. Hadriana's eyes were wide and nearly popping out of her skull. Hawke thought her nearly dead already, but somehow she managed a strained petition.

"Wait, please, you don't want to kill me!"

"There is only one person I want to kill more. But you'll do for now." He kept squeezing.

"..Si..Sister..he ha-has your sister.." The squeezing stopped, but he did not let go.

"What did you say?" He pulled her close to his face.

"You have a sister. She was free, but now he has her. I can tell you more. More of your past. I can help you. Please!"

Fenris was still. Hawke saw him teeter on the knife's edge. Then she saw in his eyes which side he would come down on. Fenris spit in the face of the mage in his grasp and the sound of her spine breaking split the silence.


	15. Takeover

It took every ounce of will that Hawke had to not reach out and comfort Fenris. The last of her strength drained from her as she watched the elf suffer silently, the pain of raw emotion burning off of him with his lyrium. The fist that had crushed Hadriana's neck was clenched tight and he still stood over her, staring down at her lifeless body. Hawke knew more than most the poisonous taste of vengence and she could see that Fenris now knew it too. A wounded animal is quick to bite and she didn't want him to regret biting her if she tried to help. Right now it was up to her to protect them both from that regret. There was nothing she could do in this moment to wash the bitterness from him so she chose to suffer along side him.

And suffer she did. All too quickly he had become so much more to her than an interesting lover. He was something else entirely, but she had no words to define it yet. She felt tethered to him and she was awed by the irony that a former slave now owned every bit of the indomitable Hawke. She didn't know what this woman, Hadriana, had done to him. She didn't want to know. She didn't trust she could control her rage if she did. So she would simply wait for him to guide her next actions.

She sunk, bone weary, back down to the floor. Fenris was still breathing heavily but as moment passed onto moment his agitation seemed to taper and she saw him unclench his fist. He turned to look at Hawke where she sat. She thought she must look a pathetic thing crumpled on the ground, pale and drained of might and magic. She straightened a little and looked back at him expectantly. Her brief quiet vigil at his side was not lost on him and she could see gratitude replace one small fragment of the angst in his eyes.

He moved to where she sat and crouched down in front of her. He looked down at her hands and then took one in his. There was no magic left in it to give to him, but she squeezed back anyway. "Thank you" he said to her, and he sounded spent, but she doubted it was physical.

"I take it she deserved that and more?"

He didn't answer for a long time. Again she waited. So this is what it's like to be patient? She doubted she could muster it for anyone else. She studied the green forests of his eyes as they looked past her, likely reliving memories he wished he could forget. It was a fleeting moment of vulnerability that, to her, made his strength seem all the more imposing. Hawke also knew something about overcoming past pain. The Maker created some people strong for a reason. And then just like that, the warrior was back, the burden of history overpowered by fierce tenacity.

"Someday I will tell you. But not today."

Hawke's heart, hardened by her own history as it was, still couldn't resist a flutter at the promise of a future in that statement. She managed a weak smile and said, "Then if I ever meet her in the Fade, I'll finish the job for you."

One corner of his mouth turned up in unexpected amusement. "I have no doubt that you would. Now, would you care to tell me why, by all the gods, you would cast a spell that would cripple you alongside your enemies?"

Her pride was a little hurt by that. More so because she knew it had been profoundly stupid. Effective, but stupid. "I was hardly crippled..."

"You are a damn fool of a woman. You can't even stand. What if I was unable to kill them?

"That was never a possibility in my mind."

xxxx

Marian's faith in him was staggering. If she knew what you did to the others that helped you...

He took her by the hands and helped her stand. "I do not deserve such blind trust." He spoke the words to the floor. She leaned against him for support and looked at him curiously for several moments, searching for something. Then she casually dismissed the statement with a pat of her hand on his chest.

"You can tell me about that another day as well."

He thought to himself that there was no way for her to know how much her patience meant to him.

They were gingerly stepping their way through the carnage when Varric and Isabela appeared in the doorway of the room. Behind them was one of the young slaves they had left downstairs as they made their warpath through the mansion. The young elven girl was nervously wringing her hands.

Marian pushed off of Fenris and tried to walk to them unassisted. She tripped over a severed head and he caught her again before she fell.

Varric whistled. "Well, Hawke, as usual all we had to do was follow the corpses and there you are."

"Don't listen to him, sweet thing. Sometimes people just need to die." Isabela said the words as if she were commenting on needing to polish her daggers. "We were wandering around forever trying to find you. Hawke this is Orana," she said and gestured to the anxious looking elf. "She showed us up here. Said this place belongs to some magister named Hadriana. Did you two run into her?"

Fenris looked at Marian. She looked back at him, then at Isabela. "Over there." She nodded at the dead mage crumpled in the corner whose head was twisted at an impossible angle.

They all turned to look at the body. A tiny squeak escaped the scared slave. "M...m...mistress?" She stuttered unbelieving. It was possible she expected her mistress to reanimate. It's not as if Fenris hadn't seen it happen before. This was Minrathous after all.

Marian stepped carefully over to Orana and attempted to place a hand on her shoulder. "Yes, dear, about that..." The frail thing twitched and shrunk away from the touch. If someone had bothered to ask him, Fenris could have predicted what to expect from the slaves. Marian made another attempt. "It's alright, you're fr..."

Fenris cut her off. "Hadriana is dead. This is your mistress now." It was a command. This would be the only thing they would understand. This would protect both Marian and the slaves. He had seen the helpless looks in their eyes as he and Marian slaughtered Hadriana's thugs. This lot was not ready for freedom. There had been a time he was the same, but no longer. He was the only one who could know what was best for them at the moment.

When he saw the look on Marian's face after he said it, however, he almost regretted the decision. She is going to pontificate for hours over this, he thought to himself; but it had to be done. He would find a way to make it up to her later.

"What?!" It was more of a high pitched scream than a word coming from Marian's mouth.

Fenris shot her a stern look and stared her down even as he continued to address Orana. "Gather the rest of the slaves. Dump this filth," He swept his arm to indicate the dead bodies, "into the sewers. Await your mistress in the main hall afterwards."

The girl nodded her head vigorously, seeming grateful for being given purpose. She bowed curtly and ran from the room to carry out Fenris's orders.

Varric's laughter exploded from his chest and echoed off the walls. He clutched his belly and tears came into his eyes. "Oh, Elf! Oh, but you don't know how you're going to pay for this one!"

"What is wrong with you!?" Marian was having her own explosion and Fenris winced. "What in the Black City did you just do?!" He could almost see the waves of magic form around her as she trembled with shock. "This is absurd! You've made me a slave owner?!

Isabela grabbed Varric by his coat collar and dragged him out of the room. "We'll just be seeing to the mages in the catacombs, Hawke. I'll take whoever wants to come aboard on my ship until they get themselves sorted." She waved at them with her back turned and exited.

"Fenris..." He slid his hand to the back of her neck and she stiffened. She took a breath meaning to continue to sound off at him.

"Marian, stop." He said gently and he spoke to her in the common tongue, hoping she would consider his words more deeply. She pulled her lips together tightly, allowing him the opportunity to explain his seemingly incongruous action. "For as powerful as I know that you are, you have no idea the dangers of this city. Minrathous would eat your trusting and generous soul alive. You've just helped an escaped slave kill a magister. You've just let loose a large number of mages who know who you are, and have no love for you. Gossip in this city spreads like wildfire and before the sun peaks in the sky today you will have more enemies than there are crows in Antiva. And it's possible some of them will have already been hired to kill you."

"It wouldn't be the first time" she said sullenly, and refused to meet his gaze.

"I am unwilling to allow you to risk your safety for imprudent pride. If I can protect you with a lie, then I will lie. If that lie protects the slaves remaining in this estate, all the better. They will be safer here with you than free on the streets. Think of them as servants, pay them in coin if you wish, but do not send them away." He could see the acquiescence start to show in her frown. "I do not know who Hadriana has curried favor with besides Danarius and I don't know who her friends are or if they might try to retaliate. You must take control of her holdings and position. If you maintain dominance over what you've taken from her, show no weakness and entrench yourself here, especially if the rumors spread about who you are, as they inevitably will, it's possible neither the Chantry nor the authorities here will move on you. At least not right away."

"What about..." He knew what she was going to ask and he answered before she could even finish.

"Danarius will need time to lick his wounds after what we've done here, and now we will be fighting from a fortified position." Fenris paused to let her come to the conclusion that he was right. She eventually exhaled slowly and nodded her head.

"So I have to stay here?" She was beginning to see reason, but looked disgusted nonetheless.

"Yes, but I will remain at your side."


	16. Sister

Hawke once again found herself on the banks of a black river. Her body was asleep on a stolen bed in a borrowed mansion but her dream self was in the Fade. She had never been to a place like this while she slept before she met Fenris. The dark water seemed thick and the red sky hung like heavy robes above her. A hot breeze tickled her skin. She walked along barefoot, coarse sand between her toes and small rocks feeling very disagreeable beneath her feet. She stopped when she saw a black haired elf kneeling on the opposite bank. She squinted across the wide expanse of the river. Her elf. It was Fenris. Were they sharing a dream again? Was this his or hers?

She tried to call out to him but she found her voice wouldn't carry across. She dipped one toe in the water. It was icy cold and she drew back. Had she thought she would swim to him? She sat down on her side of the river not knowing how to proceed. She watched as Fenris tilted his head up to the sky and then back down to the river. He didn't seem to know she was there. In the distance behind him another form was taking shape. Hawke stood, ready to brave a frigid swim to keep him safe if it was a demon that approached.

She relaxed a little when she saw it was a woman running towards him. Red hair bounced around pointed ears and thin limbs struggled to get to him as fast as they could. When the other elf reached Fenris she was gasping in the hot air and her face was full of urgency. Hawke saw the woman's mouth open wide to shout at him. She waved her hands at him. She kneeled beside him as if begging. Fenris just sat there in the sand oblivious to the woman's hopeless entreaties. When she grabbed his shoulders to shake him Hawke nearly dove into the water. She stopped when the elf whose hair matched the sky saw her and released Fenris.

The women stared at each other across the water for a moment. Hawke blinked and suddenly they were face to face on her side of the river and Fenris was alone again.

"You are a mage! Who are you?" Hawke scrutinized the red haired woman speaking to her. Aquiline nose. Angular jaw. Green eyes. She chose not to respond. Her father had taught her to be wary of anyone who spoke to her in the Fade.

"Please...please," the strange woman was near tears but Hawke could not let herself be moved. "Do you know my brother?"

Brother? Was she referring to Fenris? Suddenly Hawke remembered a scene from the real world. She remembered Fenris taking his revenge with the sound of bone breaking in his grasp. But before that, she remembered the magister begging for her life with mention of a sister. "You have a sister..."

The woman must have seen some semblance of recognition in Hawke's eyes. She fell to her knees before Hawke now, hands clasped in supplication. "You've shared his dreams before haven't you? You care for him don't you? I can see it! Please take him away! Please take him far away from Tevinter. I've tried so many times to get through to him but he can't hear me. Or he won't hear me. He doesn't know me..." Her voice trailed off and a tear actually fell from one swollen green eye. "I can't let his family be used against him again, please! It's too dangerous, he's already free, he must go!" She started sobbing. In spite of her wariness, Hawke bent to try to comfort the distraught elf. Before she could touch her she seemed to vanish away on the breeze. Hawke grasped at the empty air, then looked back to where Fenris still sat. He suddenly seemed to come into awareness of his surroundings and he met Hawke's gaze just as she felt herself be pulled out of the Fade and back to consciousness.

xxxx

Hawke sat straight up in a strange bed. Fenris was beside her, head in his hands breathing deeply. Before she could worry if it was the right thing to do she curled herself around him and brought her lips to his ear. "You had a nightmare." She wasn't asking. It wasn't a question.

His breath hitched at her touch and for a moment she thought he might pull away, but then he exhaled and pulled her into him. He burrowed his face in her neck and inhaled deeply. He held her there for a long while and she almost thought he had fallen back to sleep.

Slowly she felt him start to stir. His hands gathered up her hair and pulled her head back just enough for her mouth to fall open. She felt his kiss on her throat and then she tasted his kiss on her mouth. His tongue was bold and his lips were violent, but his hands were gentle as he reverently laid her down underneath him.

He caressed down her back and kneaded her hips. His legs parted hers and he hovered over her. She whispered his name and arched herself against him. They slid into each other slowly, languidly, vestiges of sleep still clinging to them both. His markings dimly glowed and she felt his heat around her and inside her.

He voiced unashamed pleading moans against her ear and she held him tighter. Release came for her sooner than she wanted; if she could, she would have lived inside that euphoria forever, but the feeling of him was too much for her. She let her mind go free as his pace quickened growing wild with need. She had never felt so vital, so necessary than she did now with Fenris sharing her pleasure and taking comfort in her. When he clutched her tight and trembled against her, she felt a contentment she had never known before.

xxxx

Fenris's nightmare was forgotten, wiped away by contentment. He absently traced patterns on Marian's abdomen with his fingertips as he lay beside her. He couldn't help but think a small part of his satisfaction at the moment was because he had made love to her inside this house that they had captured from a tormentor of his past. A strange act of defiance against his former life to be sure, but it pleased him to no end thinking about it and he smiled against her breast where he rested his head.

Her fingers were tangled in his hair and she rubbed his scalp. "Fenris, do you remember your dream?" He lifted his head to look at her. She chewed on her lip and stared up at the ceiling. That obviously wasn't what she really wanted to ask him.

He sat up and held his hand against her cheek. "You don't need my permission to ask me questions about myself any longer you know. I already told you, if I can, I will answer." She seemed relieved to discard the need to prevaricate.

"I saw you in the Fade again. Do you remember?" He honestly did not. He remembered waking from a nightmare sweaty and panting next to Marian who had still been asleep, but he could not recall the content of the dream. "Fenris, Hadriana said you had a sister?"

His gut twisted at the sound of that name coming from his lovers lips. He wanted to spit away the poison of it so as not to taint the blissful feel of Marian in his arms. "Lies and deceptions." His reply was cold and sharp as his sword. "It is their currency here. She was pleading for her life, nothing more." He had dismissed any possibility of truth in Hadriana's words even before her body had grown cold.

Marian seemed to steel herself to tell him what she needed him to know. "Your sister was in the dream Fenris. She was trying speak to you but you couldn't hear her. She spoke to me instead."

"You are a mage. Can you be so sure it wasn't a demon? I would have thought you less susceptible." He bit his tongue too late and he regretted the words even as they died in the air. Again you let the beast control you. He opened his mouth wanting to eat the words back again, but Marian put a finger to his lips and then kissed his nose.

He stared back at her dumbfounded. "You're very lucky I know you don't mean that."

He was dizzy with relief. He was lucky and he cursed the vitriol inside him at the same time he thanked the Maker for bringing Marian to him. "She was your sister Fenris" She said it with absolute certainty. "She asked me to take you away from Tevinter. She said she saw that I cared about you."

Fenris saw her hesitate before she continued. "She said she didn't want your family to be used against you again."

xxxx

Hawke paused even longer before her next deceleration. "It isn't safe for you here. I should do as she asked..."

She saw fire burn in Fenris's eyes. "No. Absolutely not. Not until Danarius is dead." He clearly was leaving no room for negotiation. "And you forget you came here because it wasn't safe for you elsewhere. Why would you leave?"

"I would leave with you. For you..." she spoke the words before she realized she meant them more than any words she had ever spoken in her life.

Fenris pulled her close and kissed her deeply. When he parted from her he said "No one is leaving. My actions will not be guided by a sister I don't know, who might not exist. We continue on this path. Together." Hawke saw the determination in him, but there was also something else. Perhaps something he didn't want to admit to himself yet. Perhaps something he didn't understand yet.

"But Marian, please tell me if you have this dream again."


	17. Mistress

"You're really very cruel" Marian accused him. But the insult had no teeth. Hands on her hips, she stared him down trying to look fierce. Fenris could imagine that it would have appeared thus to anyone else, but all he saw was the woman who he could make tremble with his voice and moan at his touch. Wielding that kind of influence over a formidable mage such as Marian had been doing wonders in helping to slowly erase some of the scars of his past. His Hawke was a better healer than she knew. But he still wouldn't be swayed.

"I am practical and realistic. You are stubborn and delusional." Fortunately, Fenris was just as stubborn. He was not going to let her escape this duty. Granted, it was a duty that he had forced her into, but it couldn't be helped. He had allowed her avoidance up to this point, but could not humor her any longer. She must play at being the mistress and participate in interrogating the slaves; he needed to know whatever information they could tell him and he hoped it would help them to plan their next course of action.

They were fortunate to have passed several uneventful days in the mansion. No one had come to arrest, capture or smite either of them. The mages they had freed were now scattered to the four winds, only one, a young woman who was a healer remained on Isabela's ship...apparently in Isabela's private cabin. Varric, who Fenris had to admit was extremely enterprising, had taken over their rooms at the Sword and Sovereign and appeared to have woven a network of informants who now regularly reported to him. Unfortunately there had been no information worth mentioning. It was that terrifying absence of news which disturbed Fenris enough to finally force Marian into assuming her new role properly.

He had been managing the slaves without her until now, making sure they were busy with the minutiae of servitude. They obeyed him unfailingly as he knew they would. He had spared Marian the task of addressing them when they assembled to meet their new mistress, taking it upon himself to explain the change in "management" and announcing himself as her bodyguard. Irony, it seemed, was now a permanent fixture in his life.

The sprawling mansion was scrubbed clean of any remnants of its previous owner and now smelled faintly of orchids. Varric had Marian's few belongings brought to them and they had recovered her father's staff undamaged. Marian herself had actually burned anything and everything that was even remotely related to blood magic, which left many of the rooms curiously empty.

Her impressive brooding about the current situation caused the whole household to give her a wide berth. She largely restricted herself to the library and the bedroom apartments they had taken to using. It suited their little farce just fine however, to have her sequestered these past few days. She would appear to the slaves to be arrogant and distant; exactly how she should appear to them. As for the outside world, he hoped that if Marian kept out of sight until the dust settled on their little massacre the other night, the fact that they had committed an unsanctioned murder of a magister and stolen her property would go unnoticed for as long as possible; or at least until more scandalous gossip came around. Regrettably, Fenris had to admit to himself that the next bit of scandalous gossip likely to come around would be that the mage who assisted in the unsanctioned murder of a magister was the Champion of Kirkwall.

He also couldn't deny that he liked having her secluded up in their rooms. Waiting for him. Available to him. Fleetingly he considered being concerned about the fact that the slaves would think him a bodyguard and a bedroom plaything, but he couldn't bring himself to care really. She was beautiful, she was his and he had felt more sated in body and soul these past days than he ever thought possible in many lonely years on the run. The last thing he needed, however, was for Marian to find out that some might think her a depraved mistress bedding a powerless slave. He was already eyeballs deep in her ire for making her a slave owner in the first place. If she caught wind of that, it's possible she would make him sleep elsewhere if only to keep up appearances, which would be entirely unacceptable to him at this point. He'd be damned before he went back to suffering through his freedom, denying himself what others took for granted.

He let his eyes wander over her as she stood trying to be defiant. In the dim light of the library, shadows danced across her face. She was enticingly flushed with frustration. Her hair was loose and he could almost feel the silk of it in his fingers. He could almost feel her magic tingle on his skin. He couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from turning up into a slight but hungry grin.

Later, he told himself. He shifted his weight and cracked his knuckles. "Marian, you must accept that you cannot change the order of things in this land. This is not Fereldon and this is not the Free Marches. I have already told you this ruse is necessary and temporary."

She practically hissed out a long slow breath before she replied. "It's possible that there is no one else for whom I would do this." She had finally accepted defeat.

When he originally decided to return to Minrathous, he could never have guessed that he would be driven to scheming like a magister. "I could say the same thing."

xxxx

She knew what they were all thinking. As he paraded the poor cowering men and women before her, she knew what they thought of her. And he knew it too, but damned if he didn't seem to care one bit. They think I'm some kind of slave-molesting pervert with an elf fetish. 

Said Elf was not helping the situation in the least. He was every bit the deferential subordinate towards Hawke in front of the "staff". She liked that appellation better than "slaves". Meanwhile, when no one else could see, his green eyes would find her from behind white strands of hair and she would blush and squirm in her chair. Several times she caught him smirking at her and she wanted nothing more than to show him what he could do with that mouth instead.

The afternoon wore on and she learned the names of the people she now felt responsible for. They were mostly young elves, but a few looked to be in their middle years, each with different simple household skills and duties. Hawke noted with not a small amount of disgust that some bore visible scars of varying sizes and ages. Whether from something perceived as discipline or from deliberate bleeding to fuel Hadriana's blood magic, Hawke cursed the dead bitch's savagery under her breath more than once. She promised herself she would see them all free eventually. Until then, she swore to the Maker no further harm would come to them.

The poor slaves seemed to endure Fenris's inquisition no worse for wear. He had given Hawke that "Be Silent" look, lest she break character, so she let him do most of the questioning, while she sat trying to look autocratic. He asked them about Hadriana and the goings on under this roof. Most of them knew nothing of the business that was conducted here. Some mentioned they would see the groups of foreign mages arrive and then be moved elsewhere after only a few days, but they knew not where. While they all knew of Danarius, none of them had seen him come or go from here for many months, though they knew Hadriana was still loyal to her former teacher and would often receive correspondence from him personally delivered by the expatriate Kirkwall merchant.

Before Fenris brought in the next slave, the two took a moment to consider what they had heard so far. Hawke sighed and stretched where she sat behind the large desk in the library. She looked around at the shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling, now sparse of books after she had destroyed everything containing forbidden magic. Forbidden in her mind at least. Fenris sat in the chair opposite her and ran his bare fingers through his hair. He slouched and growled and then said what both of them were suspecting. "It's possible Danarius is not in Minrathous. Though I can't fathom why he would leave the city and put Hadriana in charge of anything. He would have been more likely to kill her himself than trust her."

Hawke raised an eyebrow at him. "No honor among maleficarum? Shocking."

Fenris got up to fetch the last person they had to speak with. He returned with the wisp of a girl Hawke remembered had been with Isabela and Varric when they found her and Fenris amidst the bodies of their fallen enemies. Fenris led the girl by the arm and stood her before Hawke. Her thin fingers were clasped in front of her and her eyes were cast down to the floor. She appeared to be trying to make herself as small as possible in the overly large room.

Fenris took his place behind Hawke and stood at attention. On his way there he caught her eyes and seeing her pained exhaustion he mouthed "nearly done" to her in encouragement. "Mistress, this is Orana" he announced sounding disgustingly subservient. Hawke would have given her left eye to never hear the word "mistress" come out of his mouth again. He was about to address Orana but surprisingly she spoke first.

"Thank you mistress, for killing her." The words spoken by the young slave were muted, but Hawke recognized a thin vein of courage in them. Hawke and Fenris exchanged a stunned glance as Orana continued to watch the carpet. It was Hawke's turn to attempt to say something, but again Orana spoke unsolicited. "She killed my father."

Hawke stood and walked around the desk towards her. Of everyone they had questioned today, this girl was the only one who had spoken without being asked a question first. Hawke could have hugged her. That small act from this small elf was enough to set Hawke's hopeful heart ablaze at the fact that not everyone who had suffered in this house was yet broken.

Hawke unthinkingly moved to take Orana's hand and wanted to ask her to speak further. Fenris tried to step forward to stop her but before he could Orana pulled away sharply, stumbled backwards a few steps then fell to the floor on her knees, prostrating herself before Hawke.

"I'm sorry, Mistress, please, I should not have spoken! I'm sorry!" She quickly wailed.

xxxx

Marian stepped back and Fenris stepped forward. The poor girl expected some kind of punishment for speaking out of turn. In her mind that would have been the only reason for Marian to approach her. Fenris stood between the two women. Marian was grinding her teeth, looking like she wanted to kill Hadriana a second time. Orana was shivering on the floor.

"Oh, Holy Maker, enough! I've had enough Fenris!" Marian threw her arms in the air, stepped past Fenris, then threw herself down and practically pressed her face to the floor so that she was eye level with Orana.

"Listen to me, dear thing, please." She pleaded with the slave. "I am not your mistress, I am nobody's mistress! I swear neither of us is going to hurt you. Your bitch of an old Mistress deserved to die and we're glad we killed her."

Orana dared to look up just barely to see Marian lying on the floor in front of her and the two stared at each other, both unwilling to make the next move.

Fenris sighed and rolled his eyes. First he picked up Marian and led her back behind the desk. Then he picked up Orana and led her to the chair opposite. He leaned against the corner of the desk. Apparently, being confronted with a slave who thought she was going to be beaten was the limit of Marian's ability to go against her principles. Frankly, he was surprised she had lasted this long pretending to be someone she clearly wasn't. It was that lovely willfulness, however, that made her so captivating.

And so Fenris had finally accepted defeat. He rubbed his forehead before sighing again and speaking. "Orana, do you know Magister Danarius?"

The girl nodded at him and he saw tears actually well up in her eyes. "P..Pl..Please! Don't send me to him!"

Fenris could feel Marian's fury tickle the hairs on the back of his neck as she imagined what depravity the girl feared so at the mention of his former master. Whatever she was thinking couldn't compare. He bit back ugly memories he wasn't prepared to relive right now. He continued. "I was his slave. I escaped. I killed Hadriana and I'm going to kill Danarius."

No one spoke as Fenris's declaration settled in the air.

Orana looked hesitantly at Marian and asked "You're...not a magister?"

"I am not a magister." She said the word as if it tasted bad in her mouth. "And he is not a slave any longer."

Fenris took over again. "Can you tell us where Danarius is?"

It was clear Orana was still bewildered, but she answered. "No. Master Danarius hasn't visited in some time. Master Cassian brought his letters to the Mistress though." Fenris heard the girl choke at the mention of the merchant and she curled up a little into herself where she sat in the chair he had put her in. Unfortunately Marian was just as perceptive.

"Orana, why did Hadriana kill your father?" Marian asked her.

The elf closed her eyes to hold in tears. "I...He..." She stilled her breaths. "He tried to stop Master Cassian from..." She bit her lip. "He should have just let me be, but..." She allowed a tear to fall. "The mistress had to punish him...and then made him watch. She killed him afterwards."

Fenris felt his lyrium burn with his disgust though it was nothing he could not have guessed. Again, sick memories threatened to overtake him until he felt Marian's magic change the air around them. He saw her close her eyes to regain control over the righteous anger sparking inside her.

Very quickly she settled into an icy calm. "I will not suffer these pretenses any longer, Fenris. Let Danarius come and find us here. Let the Magisterium empty and come to this door. Let them all come. They're all dead."

The Maker is not without a sense of timing. Fenris heard before Marian did and he was a blur of movement as he grabbed his greatsword from where it leaned against an empty bookshelf. His weapon was in his hand when she heard it too and she shouted at Orana to get behind them as she drew her magic into her hands.

Deep voices and a clatter of armor echoed loudly now in the hall just outside the library.

Fenris saw Marian's mouth spread into the implacable smile he now knew well and she spoke with frenzied anticipation, her magic surging around her "Ask and you shall receive..."


	18. Blood

Marian was not one for passivity. True to Varric's word, she charged forward like the vanguard. The air grew thick with the swell of her magic and a nod of her head caused the doors of the library to burst open into the main hall of the mansion. Fenris saw flashes of silver, orange and black. He allowed his lyrium to pull him forward and he blazed with light. He shot past her before she could cross the threshold. Two Imperial templars with swords half drawn, orange starburst heraldry on their chests, stood in front of a tall and forbidding figure in the black robes of a magister. Relief and disappointment in equal measure twisted in Fenris's gut when he realized through his blur of motion that the magister was not Danarius. The next thing to twist inside him was revulsion and dread, I know him.

Fenris shouted a warning, "Marian, stay back!" and he crossed the room faster than the templars could finish drawing their blades. His heavy steel crashed against the shield of one of them with a two handed blow that threw the human off balance. The knight staggered and fell, an awkward mass of metal plate. Fenris pivoted, swinging his sword back with one arm. His bare fist, bright with the lyrium traced over his bones, made contact with the other templar underneath his chin. The force of the punch snapped the man's head backward and his helmet was knocked off kilter.

Fenris arced his sword around for another attack but by then Marian had them. The two templars were now struggling forms of suspended limbs floating in mid air, their own swords pointed menacingly at the crest on their breastplates, held there by unseen hands. The helpless humans gasped and writhed trying to escape the blades as their lethal points pushed deliberately forward piercing through their armor with the shriek of metal on metal.

Fenris saw Marian standing poised and perfect, two fingers of one hand raised in the air, her tongue sweeping slowly across her lips savoring the moment; she was a predator as only another predator could appreciate.

"Enough!" Black robes and arrogance now joined the frey. The magister lifted his staff, magic crackling around it. Fenris moved to attack him and he swung wildly hoping to sever the arm holding the staff, but he was thrown backwards by a pulse of energy from the mage's other hand. He landed across the room, his lyrium sparking and burning along his skin as if protesting against the contact with magic that wasn't Marian's.

Marian still had the templars in her grasp, and if their panicked screams were any indication, their swords had gone through their armor and were now grazing skin. The soldiers were spared an ignoble death by their own blades when the magister raised his staff towards them and froze the swords into ice. With a flick of his wrist, the ice shattered into harmless shards on the floor.

Marian's attention turned to the magister and the templars fell from the air. She brought both her hands up before her and the house started to tremor all around them. Fenris looked to the magister, staff still outstretched, face tight with effort, fighting against the vice of Marian's magic. When he spoke his voice was strained but still rife with conceit.

"If you know what's good for you, you will release me" and he sneered in condescension.

Marian laughed. "I think it would be good for me to watch you die in pain, magister scum."

The man returned the laugher but it was a repulsive echo of hers. His frigid blue eyes continued to focus with concentration on Marian, but he lifted his hand again and lighting formed around it shooting out towards Fenris.

Fenris scrambled to recover and attempted to dodge the strike. There was a blinding flash of light where Marian had been standing and then another just in front of him where she now stood. She was suddenly positioned between him and the magister's lighting, which she caught in her hand and tossed aside harmless. She brought her arms out ready to retaliate but the magister spoke again.

"If you're looking to help the little wolf, dear girl, you will find it necessary to cooperate."

Marian hesitated and a tense moment passed where no one attacked. Fenris picked himself up off of the floor, as did the templars. The mages stood unmoving and studied one another, measuring risk and calculating advantage. Fenris stood beside Marian, sword ready. The templars flanked the magister.

"You would do your new mistress well, little wolf, if you told her who I am." A white blur of outrage tunneled his vision and Fenris would have tried to lash out again, blind to the consequences, if Marian had not stilled him with a touch. He felt her hand twitch with anger at the other mage's implication as she spit out a reply.

"You're just another faceless blood mage to me," but her eyes moved to Fenris with the unspoken question. Who is he? Fenris's breathing had grown heavy and he wanted nothing more than to just attack, but he knew who this man was and he knew that it was too dangerous to ignore his cryptic words.

Through gritted teeth, lyrium still bright, sword still ready, Fenris said "Drop your staff mage."

"So long away, you've forgotten your place, Slave!" and a fire ball shot from his staff.

Again Marian caught the element. It shrunk into smallness and she blew it away from the palm of her hand with a puff of breath. "Drop your staff mage." She repeated his order. "And get your puppet templars out of my sight."

The man laughed again and there was something vile and twisted about his amusement. "Oh, you are going to be such a wonderful new diversion!" He lowered his staff and gave a curt order to the templars. "Out" he said and without question they took their swords and their damaged pride and exited the front door to the street.

Only the three of them now stood in the hall. The magister casually leaned on his staff. "Well, little wolf...?" It was a question. It was a command. It was a threat. In his head Fenris cursed all the gods he knew. There was nothing for it but to obey.

xxxx

"This is Loranus Crasta. He is the Executor of the Archon." Fenris spoke with hate and rage and, to Hawke's dismay, a tiny shred of defeat.

Hawke looked from Fenris to the tall man in black robes. He was in his late middle age with neatly trimmed dark hair run with grey and ice for eyes. His face was taut with angles and menace and Hawke's stomach turned at the feeling that there was something not so vaguely deviant about him as he smiled at her.

Fenris had lowered his sword and Hawke sensed a hesitant shifting in his lyrium and it unsettled her. She pulled together enough defiance for them both. "Huh. Should I be honored by a visit from the Archon's lap dog?"

The magister stepped slowly towards Hawke. She felt Fenris's hackles rise and she held him still again with the touch of her hand on his arm. She stood her ground and looked up into dead blue eyes.

"Dear girl, you would be ever so much fun to break." His smile was an ugly evil thing and Hawke had to fight to keep her magic calm when it screamed inside her to attack. Fenris fared no better. He growled low in his throat at the threat and the lyrium in his skin under where Hawke's fingers rested was flaming with heat. "Ah, but alas, no time for that now," The man flippantly tossed his head and continued walking past them towards the open doors to the library. "Come pets, we have much to discuss."

Hawke and Fenris had a rushed conversation. Hawke started. "What am I walking into?"

"Crasta has the Archon's ear and speaks with his voice. If he wanted us dead or captured, we would be. I am certain that Hadriana's death was not important enough to earn retribution directly from the Archon. He wants something else."

"I supposed we can't just kill him?"

"Tempting..."

"...but no?"

"No. Marian..."

"Yes?" Hawke clasped Fenris's hand and let her magic mingle with his lyrium. He looked down at their joined hands and she saw an odd juxtaposition of craving and worry.

"This man is dangerous, Marian." Hawke saw the ghosts of the past in his eyes. "More than you realize. If it comes to it, do not risk yourself. Do not try to protect me."

"No."

"What?"

"No. I will protect you. And you will protect me. Now, let's go." Hawke followed the magister into the library.

xxxx

Fenris drew from Marian's strength and followed her into the library. He saw Orana clasping her arms around herself as she stood in the far corner of the room. Crasta noticed her and gave an order.

"You. Girl. Wine and two glasses. Now." He snapped his fingers and Orana jumped to obey scurrying past him and Marian as they entered, not meeting their eyes. Crasta sat behind the desk. Marian stopped and stood in the middle of the room. She crossed her arms over her chest, her face impassive. Fenris stood possessively at her side, his fists opening and closing as he focused on the remembered feeling of Marian's magic on his hand.

Seeming at his leisure, Crasta propped his legs up on the desk. "You are a spitfire of a little mage, aren't you Serah Hawke? I've heard you were not taught in a Circle. Who trained you?"

"A stronger mage than you." Marian spoke with confidence and Fenris had yet to see her even blink.

"A sharp mouth you have. Tell me, little wolf, is she always this...stimulating." His leer made Fenris want to retch.

Orana then returned to the room, bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. She set one before the magister and poured with shaking hands. He waved her away and she brought the other glass to Marian and poured for her as well. Marian let her do it and simply held the glass of wine as Orana again scurried from the room shutting the doors behind her.

Crasta raised his glass. "To...homecomings" he said and winked at Fenris.

Marian slowly, calmly tipped her glass and poured the contents onto the carpet in front of her. Then she threw the glass to the side and it shattered against an empty bookshelf. "I don't drink with my enemies" she said, and she smiled. Fenris had to stifle an unexpected snicker as he witnessed yet another reason why he was awed by this woman.

The magister simply shrugged, sipped his wine and set it back down on the desk. "To business then. It's very fortunate for you, little wolf, that you found yourself a new mistress...and such a mistress...when you did. Your former master has been very naughty."

Marian and Fenris exchanged a glance full of questions. They remained silent and let him continue.

"You did the Imperium a service killing that crass plebeian Hadriana. And you did it with such style, especially for a Fereldon. We really were impressed at your temerity. So I thought, why let such entertainment go to waste? The Archon has granted you the privilege of assisting in a matter of...annoyance to him. We learned some time ago that Danarius has been plotting to overthrow the Archon, and claim the seat for himself. You're going to kill him for us."

If Fenris had been given a glass of wine, he would have choked on it. He looked to Marian. She had an elegant eyebrow raised, but remained silent and expressionless. He couldn't help but think that she must win a great deal of coin at cards. Fenris followed suit and wore a mask of indifference.

"You don't have enough mages in this country? You need to seek me out to be your assassin? Why?" Fenris already knew the answer to Marian's question, so he answered her.

"They don't know who supports Danarius. They don't know who they can trust." Fenris sneered at the Executor.

"Ha! So they think they can trust me? The Archon must be in dire straits indeed! I have no intention of working for you." She pointed at the magister and her light laugher filled the room.

Fenris saw a small crack in Crasta's demeanor that spoke volumes. He was right. They didn't know who to trust. They couldn't very well fight a civil war if Danarius had many on his side, but they also couldn't remain inactive and risk a coup.

Marian continued. "Hadriana isn't dead because we were looking to help you. If Danarius meets her fate, you can be certain it would not have been because you asked. I will not be manipulated."

The Executor recovered quickly and he addressed Marian again. "You see, dear girl, I happen to know that you will do exactly what I ask and thank me for it." Fenris didn't like his tone. He leaned back in his chair. "I recently had the honor of entertaining a few friends of yours, Champion." He filled the word with mocking and contempt. "They arrived in the city not too long ago. They were very eager to find you." Fenris felt Marian tense beside him. Crasta casually picked at his nails. "I must say, your Chantry trains their Seekers exceptionally well. It took me five days to break them. I had to get very creative." Fenris felt nauseous. Marian went pale. "But, eventually they gave me what I wanted. Your blood is a powerful thing, girl. More powerful than you deserve. And I will enjoy using it if you refuse me."


	19. Drunk

A surreal moment passed for Hawke just then. It was as if she left her body and saw herself standing there, waist deep in shit. Like usual. And she had dragged poor Fenris into it with her. The Maker created some people strong for a reason. Those words were less of a consolation than she hoped. This magister had tortured Chantry Seekers to obtain her phylactery. She briefly wondered at the series of events that led to this. Had the Imperial hierarchy discovered her from the vigilantism she hadn't exactly been quiet about, or had they found the Seekers first, learned about her presence and then tortured them for her blood? Would they have left Fenris alone if he had remained on his own, or if he had simply found a different mage, any other mage, to help him? She supposed it didn't matter at this point. In the end, they were still waist deep.

Strangely, the cold dread of thinking about the Chantry having her phylactery seemed worse than the Imperium having it. What were they going to do? Make her tranquil? She doubted it. She doubted those pathetic templars she nearly killed even knew how to perform the Rite. Anything else she could fight. She would fight. But she couldn't afford to be reckless anymore. She didn't exactly know what they could do with her blood afterall. Just like in Kirkwall she was walking a fine line again. She had to protect Fenris. She had to look out for Isabela and Varric, who had come here to help her; and she still felt responsible for the hapless slaves whose lives she and Fenris had invaded.

She snapped back into her senses. She would not be battled down. Not now. Not here. Not ever. She would go on. She would play along for now because she had to, vowing that she would find a way to keep everyone safe and somehow turn the tables. She turned back to the Archon's man and his sick self-satisfaction. He may have her blood, but he still needed her and she was going to do her best to exploit that.

She took a deep breath then looked at Fenris. He seemed angry and uncertain. She managed her boldest most determined smile for him and he looked at her wide eyed. She couldn't tell if he was in awe of her confidence or her insanity.

Hawke placed her hands on her hips and looked the Executor in the eyes. "This estate and everything in it is now mine, free and clear, and I must have the Archon's full legal authority to kill whoever I need to kill to get the job done." She narrowed her eyes and held one finger up at him. "And you will keep all of the damn slave hunters in this cesspool of a city off of Fenris permanently."

Crasta considered her demands. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl. "The estate is yours. Hadriana's senate seat is not. You have the authority to kill whoever you need to, within reason. I will trust you are not so simple-minded that you do not know the difference. And as for the little wolf, well..." Hawke felt the heat pour out from Fenris's lyrium along with some of the anger he was struggling to contain. The magister chuckled. "I can't blame you for wanting him all to yourself. The lad is rather...skilled, isn't he?"

Hawke saw red. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? 

Fenris shook with rage and took a step forward. "Shut your mouth..." He hissed, and he almost lunged at the magister.

The amusement fell from Crasta's face and he stood up grabbing hold of his staff. Hawke quickly stepped between the two men. She spit on the floor at the other mage and fire snaked around her fingertips. She wanted to watch him burn...

"I will be generous only to a point, girl." The unspoken threat and his eyes like ice chilled Hawke's breath in her throat, but she willed herself not to blink and kept the flames bright in her hands.

He now addressed Fenris. "You will wait outside for your mistress, slave. She and I will finish our discussion privately."

"He's not going any-" she immediately started to reply, but Fenris gripped her arm and interrupted her while his eyes remained trained on the other mage, staring daggers at him.

"It's alright, Marian. I will be just outside the door." Fenris's unspoken threat was as chilling as Crasta's. He slowly backed his way to the door, exited and closed it behind him, but Hawke was certain that he was still holding onto the doorknob on the other side and listening just in case.

The magister sat back down, casual indifference back in place. He gestured at the door. "He has been allowed to grow wild. He will need broken again. Please let me know if you need assistance in that regard." He gave Hawke a lurid grin and she bit her tongue until she tasted blood. "I will have his ownership transferred to you. You may not be an imperial citizen but, from what I understand, you were nobility in Kirkwall. That will have to be good enough" he said dismissively.

She actually was a slave owner now. Hawke fumed inside at being driven to this. But self-righteous indignation would not help her, or Fenris, or the slaves in this house. She swallowed down her bile and her pride as she extinguished the fire in her hands. "And..."

Crasta rolled his eyes impatiently. "Consider all bounties for the little pet hereby nullified. Half of those hunters belonged to me anyway."

What? She hoped Fenris was still at the door listening to this. "Why were you trying to capture him?"

He simply stared back at her, silent. Of course. He was only going to give her the information she needed to know. She waited out his long pause.

"Suffice it to say, he is valuable for many reasons." With a deep laugh he rose and picked up his staff. "Res secundae, little hawk" he waved and spoke as he walked past her to the door. "Rest assured I will be kept apprised of your progress."

"Wait! Do you even know where I can find Danarius to kill him? We know he's not in Minrathous." She already knew what his answer would be.

"You Fereldons are the resourceful type, are you not? You found Hadriana. I have no doubt you will be able to find Danarius. Do be quick about it though. I am quite busy and would be very put out if I had to motivate you." He opened the door, and left.

xxxx

Fenris watched Crasta leave. He had to fight back a mighty urge to jump on him and claw him to death with his bare hands. He had been listening to the remainder of their conversation at the door. He walked back into the library.

Marian was pacing. She did not acknowledge Fenris when he entered. She looked absorbed in private thought and started mumbling a string of brazen curses in Trade. He heard and understood them of course. Though he wished he hadn't.

"I'm certain I've never heard such things said outside of the docks, let alone from a lady." He interrupted her pacing and swearing.

She stopped to look at him, fret and agitation lining her face. "Hmph. Surely you know by now how very little of a 'lady' I am." She moved to sit on top of the desk. "I assume you heard..."

"I heard." She was searching him for something. He knew because he had already searched himself for it. When he heard that Marian's bargain for his freedom from hunters meant he now legally belonged to her, he had searched himself for the bitterness and hate that he knew should be there. And it was there, brittle and raw with the weight of years, heavy in a corner of his heart, but it wasn't for her. It was for Danarius and Hadriana and Crasta, and all who were like them; but not for her. It wasn't so very long ago that he would not have been able to make that distinction. Now that he could, he felt more a free man and less a slave than he ever had.

Fenris walked over to where she sat. He moved himself to stand between her legs as they dangled from the desk. His hands wrapped around her waist and he looked at the small woman who now owned him body and soul.

"Why aren't you angry?" She seemed hesitant and surprised.

He caressed her cheek and tilted her head up towards his. "My anger is for them, not for you."

She turned her head away. "Fenris..."

"Stop." He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "You are not them."

"I don't want to own you!"

"You already do, Marian. I'm yours." He leaned in closer to her. "And you're mine, remember?" She blushed and he finally felt her relax. "For now, considering the situation in which we find ourselves, it is enough of a victory that I no longer technically belong to Danarius."

Marian's eyes moved from his to look over his shoulder. He turned and saw Orana hovering in the doorway. She carried two more bottles of wine and two glasses.

"Orana?" Marian gently spoke her name as if she didn't want to scare off a frightened child.

Orana walked over to the desk and placed the things down next to them. She stood looking at the floor and then said "There's more in the cellar. I thought..." She looked up at them hesitantly. "I thought you might need it." She abruptly bowed and hurried from the room.

Fenris just watched her run away. Marian laughed.

She picked up a bottle and smiled at him. "She's right. Let's get drunk."

xxxx

They were marking hours in wine bottles. It was difficult to tell which one of them was more drunk. Fenris was not experienced enough with it to know if such a thing could be measured in degrees. As a slave he never knew the taste of spirits. After his escape he never felt safe enough to let his senses be affected by drink, though he had wondered more than once if he could drown out the pain of his lyrium with it.

Night came and a heavy rain settled on the city with the sounds of fat droplets breaking upon shutters and stone. There was a coolness in the air that made the wine even more welcome. Fenris and Marian were sat in front of the hearth in the kitchen where the fire had burned down to embers. He would have chosen the bedroom, but she insisted they drink here.

"Because a magister would never drink wine straight from the bottle while sitting in the kitchen Fenris and I need to feel as un-like a magister right now as possible."

He knew the slaves had been sneaking curious glances at them all evening. Anytime one of them even came near while attending to their duties Marian would offer them a drink. No one had yet accepted.

He finished the bottle in his hand and tossed it onto a pile where it clattered and rolled away with its fellows. He looked over at Marian. She was sprawled in a chair, head lazily tipped back towards the ceiling. A half empty bottle was balanced in her fingertips. She was singing. It seemed like she was singing more to herself than to him but he closed his eyes and listened anyway, the rain seeming to keep in time. She sang an old Fereldon ballad, from a time when her homeland was controlled by Orlais. She sang of grief and loss and hope and the strength to journey on. Her voice was clear and confident and lovely, much like her.

When she finished, she leaned forward, emptied her bottle and tossed it after Fenris's. She looked over at him. Her eyes were cloudy and her lids were heavy. She was struggling more than usual to keep from questioning him. It must be the effects of the wine. But even thus, he knew she wouldn't ask. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and reached for another bottle. He wasn't prepared to deal with her pity. He didn't want it. He didn't want her to know the broken slave he actually was. He wanted to be what she deserved and that's all. If he could rid himself of his memories before the day he met her, he would and be glad for it.

He watched her watch him and neither said a word. Her expression was knowing and resolute. His drink addled mind wondered if it was possible she had magic that allowed her to read his thoughts. She looked away and joined him in starting on another bottle. She spoke. Clear and confident and lovely, much like her.

"I don't know what they did to you, Fenris. But I promise we'll kill them all for it."


	20. Revelation

It was an old and recurrent nightmare. Blessedly less frequent as of late, but that did not make it any easier to bear. He knew he was dreaming. He knew where his sleeping body lie, but he had never been able to force himself to wake or change the events as they played out in this dark corner of the Fade.

He was being punished. The scene was an amalgamation of various past disciplines, superimposed upon which was the striking pain of his brands as he remembered from the day they were new. His mouth was sticky with blood. The air he inhaled through a broken nose was wet with it and his breath raled and crackled on its way down leaving an iron taste in his throat that turned his stomach when he swallowed. He was wearing only his skin and it burned. He scraped and tore at himself with his fingers wherever he could reach trying to erase the pain of it with different pain.

He writhed and twisted on a dirt floor trying to squirm out of himself. He heard slow steps approach him from behind and deep low laughter. A fist in his hair pulled him up to his knees. His hands moved to his neck in anticipation of what he knew came next. The collar came around his throat and was drawn tight and he gagged. From behind white strands of hair, matted with sweat, he saw a thin spray of blood escape his mouth as he coughed and choked. Next comes the magic. A hand snaked around to rest on his chest. Rough fingers pressed into his flesh and his markings ignited with foul energy; the lyrium burning and pulling at something deep inside him. He didn't even bother to hold back his tortured howl. Sometimes he tried, but that just made the nightmare last longer. Better to just give in. 

"Very good little wolf, better to just give in." Always the same words and it always surprised him that he could hear Danarius whisper them through his screams.

xxxx

Hawke heard screaming. It came from all around her. It was like daggers in her ears and it ripped at her insides and if it didn't stop soon she was sure she would go mad. She ran. She had never been to a jungle in the real world, but that was where she found herself now, running in a jungle in the Fade. Sweat stung her eyes and strange tropical foliage lashed at her arms and her legs as she tore through. A scorching sun beat down with all the mercy of death.

She didn't know where she was going but she knew she had to find the source of the screaming. She had to stop it. Colors streaked past her in greens and browns and hot yellows. Her hair stuck to her face and she felt like she was suffocating on her own breath. The screaming went on and on. The colors began to dull and dim and they finally went black and she was running in darkness. The air around her cooled and felt clammy and damp. The screams were louder now and she fought to hold onto her sanity.

Darkness gave way to faint light lining stone passages. The terrible noise seemed to narrow and focus and Hawke found hope again when she realized it had a direction. She followed the sounds of agony, turning corners and winding through endless corridors. As she worked her way closer and closer, her heart tightened and ached and sorrow grew within her so tangible she would have thought it a demon come to possess her. She was nearly on top of the painful wailing now and she rounded a final bend. She stopped. A door stood before her immoveable and solid with not so much as a crack between it and the surrounding stone. Next to the door a woman knelt and wept.

Sister. The word appeared suddenly in her mind. But this isn't Bethany, she tried to reason with herself. And then she remembered. Fenris's sister. The thin elf with hair like fire looked up at her, face weary with torment.

"He's being punished" the woman said, her voice heavy and inevitable.

Fenris. This was Fenris screaming? Hawke's mind fought against it. Her Fenris growled and laughed, whispered and moaned, shouted and spoke with eloquence. Those were his sounds that she knew. How could these desolate screams, that threatened to unhinge her with their despair, be coming from her warrior?

Hawke's tenuous control broke. She pulled the woman up and shook her "What is going on?! Why aren't you helping him? I must help him..." And she threw herself at the door, of course, finding it locked and barred. A wicked rune appeared on it glowing in mockery.

"What is this?" She demanded wild eyed and she turned back to the elf. "This is no simple nightmare! Is this rune keeping him captive here?"

"No." Fenris's sister shook her head and her eyes were bitter, defeated. "Part of him is always trapped here. The rune is keeping us out."

"It's not keeping me out!" Hawke took a determined step forward and readied herself. Never before had she used magic in the Fade. It was a rule from her father she was not permitted to question. He had said her magic was too strong, too unstable and would be too dangerous magnified on this side of the Veil. But she didn't care. Let the Veil crumble and this dark magic with it! She must help Fenris. She lifted her hand and the rune hissed and cracked and evaporated. She waved her arm and the door was blasted off its hinges.

xxxx

The fingers left his chest and the pain stopped. Fenris fell back down onto his hands. This is different, he managed to form the thought, it shouldn't be over yet. He lifted his eyes when he heard the sharp splinter of wood and he saw a door fly past him and shatter against the opposite wall. This is different...he felt different. He looked at his markings, bright and luminescent and pulsing, but there was no pain, no burn, no pull. There was something else, deep in his gut, like a spark. It was warm and solid and strong and for some reason it made him think of Marian.

And at the thought of her, as if by magic, she was there. She was a blur of white light and beauty as one delicate arm pulled him into her and the other let loose a maelstrom.

The room around them was engulfed in flames. His awareness slowly sharpened and his head cleared. He looked to Marian and saw something untamed in her eyes, her magic was unfocused and she lashed out with it in all directions. He saw the walls of his dream-made dungeon melt away like lava and in their place rose up the feral green thicket of overgrowth from another distant memory. Her fire consumed that as well, and the dream image of the Seheron jungle was burning to ash.

Marian's inferno blazed outward sterilizing the Fade until she abruptly drew it back, eyes shut tight and head shaking. "No" she said through a jaw clenched in concentration.

Lingering tendrils of black smoke dissipated, weaving through half burnt plant life. Fenris looked all around them and among the tangled brush he saw Danarius, standing like a tower of malice. The magister looked directly at the couple huddled together. Fenris stared back, Marian was still trying to shut out...something. Danarius gripped a collar in one of his hands. Fenris reached up to his throat to find it bare of the well worn chain. He wanted to rip Danarius apart. He wanted to attack, but he found himself frozen in place. He was uncertain and caught between his old nightmare and his new reality; caught between his old master and his new mistress, who wasn't a mistress at all, but the promise of freedom.

Fenris closed his eyes but behind his lids the jungle was still vivid before him. He fought back the memories; memories of the Seheron wilds spattered with blood and stained by the deaths of the warriors who had also promised him freedom when, in a similar moment of uncertainty, he had chosen to obey the order of a master to his slave. His gut twisted and turned and he hoped against hope that Danarius wouldn't speak, for he feared he would succumb to the inevitable a second time.

Then he felt the spark inside him again, solid and strong, and again he thought of Marian. I won't let that happen with her. The thought felt certain, more certain than anything he had experienced on either side of the Veil and he opened his eyes.

Danarius's face betrayed him. A small crack showed in the usually arrogant confidence of the tyrant revealing a thin line of anger and doubt. But it was fleeting and the magister regained his composure quickly. He smiled and laughed and it seemed too close and too loud.

"She is strong, little wolf, but strength can be a dangerous thing in the Fade. I'll look forward to seeing you both again soon..."

Before he could even try to respond, Danarius was gone, his laughter and cryptic words still echoing in Fenris's ears. But he wasn't left wondering at riddles for long.

In the distance in every direction vast hoards of demons seemed to swell towards them like waves.

"No..." Fenris turned back to Marian and saw her lips move with the word, but the sound was drowned out in the thunder of approaching fiends.

xxxx

What have I done? Hawke's rampant magic seemed to have drawn out every demon in the Fade. Rage and Pride shouted to make themselves heard; Desire whispered in her ear; Hunger and Sloth clamored for attention. It was too much, too many and she covered her ears and swallowed her magic down. She had to get out of the Fade. She had to get Fenris out of the Fade, but when she opened her eyes on the scene that had materialized around them, she saw no exit. Fear gripped her and the demons' demands assaulted her. She was paralyzed, using every bit of everything good that was in her to resist and keep the creatures at bay. Her magic was crazed and hot inside her and she grasped frantically at what dregs remained of her control. She was losing this fight, she was losing herself, she was forgetting...

"Marian, look at me!" A form of unfocused pulsing light shifted in front of her eyes. Fenris. Is this Fenris? She blinked and squinted, the demons still loud inside her head. Her hand was pulled forward and she felt it contact warm skin and hard muscle and lyrium sang beneath her fingertips.

And she felt a spark. It was solid and strong...

Clarity roared inside her like a dragon. Everything was transparent before her now. Her wide dark eyes looked into the forests of green that stared back at her, and she knew.

She knew.

Strength can be a dangerous thing in the Fade...but only if you're not strong enough. Luckily their magic was strong enough together. The demons surrounding them seemed to hesitate and the Fade itself seemed to slow as she opened her magic up again and let it flow forward to join his.

xxxx

Fenris hadn't known what he was doing. He simply knew he had to do something or she would be lost to him. Lost because of his nightmare. He would not let that happen. He grabbed Marian's hand and held it to his chest. There was the familiar flare of his lyrium as he had felt and craved from her so many times in the waking world, but there was something else, something new and he sensed the exact moment when her magic made contact with the spark in his gut and things were terrifyingly clear.

And then there were no more demons and the Fade was dark and still.

Marian's wide eyes fell heavy with exhaustion and silence filled the space around them. Her hand went slack against him and he caught her just as her body collapsed. He lifted her in his arms and it suddenly seemed so easy to decide to wake and leave the Fade behind. He chose a direction at random and walked forward with Marian held tightly to him. The air wavered and the scenes shifted as he led them back to wakefulness.

Just as the last of the Fade was disappearing away he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He paused to look and his eyes met identical green ones. Green eyes that looked shocked with hope and red hair and tapered ears and a proud nose and...he knew her. One bare and lonely fragile memory covered in dust and tragedy surfaced in his mind in the moment before he awoke.

"Varania?"

xxxx

When she woke he was still holding her. They were in the bed they had taken as their own in the mansion that now belonged to Hawke. She tried to shift, but he only held her tighter.

"Fenris..."

"Her name is Varania." His voice trembled with emotion and Hawke's heart trembled with it. "I saw her in the Fade and I knew who she was and then I remembered her name."

"Fenris..." Hawke didn't know what to say.

"I remember nothing else." She still couldn't see his face. He held her close against his bare chest. She inhaled his scent of leather and lyrium and he in turn inhaled deeply in and out. He pulled her up so they were face to face. His eyes were swollen with tears that he wouldn't let fall; tears of outrage and sorrow. His hands found her hair and they clenched tightly within it. He dropped his forehead to hers and she felt again the raw vulnerability that gave substance to the deepness of his strength. He breathed and worked his fingers in her hair; his lyrium so quiet and dim it was almost silent and dark. When he finally released her, his eyes were clear and filled with purpose and resolve. "But it is more than I had and, for now, it is enough."

She kissed him lightly, her fingers brushing his cheek. She spoke against his lips, "Fenris..." She took a deep breath. His sister's name was not the only thing the nightmare had revealed to them. "Your sister..." She hesitated.

"Is a mage." He said it for her. He was stoic, unreadable.

"Yes, Fenris. And so are you."

He closed his eyes. He already knew. "I...I don't understand how that can be." He spoke in a soft whisper. Hawke wasn't exactly expecting hysterics, but this was a calmer reaction than she had hoped.

She pick up one of his hands and held it in hers. She studied it and brought it up between them. "Danarius...his ritual and the lyrium...when you were branded it bound your magic somehow to the Fade. You said you were an adolescent when you received the markings? It must have been before you were able to manifest. In the nightmare, before I found you, I met your sister again. She told me part of you is always trapped there." She squeezed his hand and looked away, disgusted and indignant at what she now knew had been done to him. She choked out the words through her anger, "That bastard tethered your magic inside the Fade so he could siphon it from you. I think that was what he was doing when I broke into the dungeon..." Her voice trailed off, not wanting to remember the horrible screams.

Fenris leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. "You can't be certain..." He said it as if trying to make it so.

She pushed off of him and sat up. "I'm certain, Fenris. You know it all makes sense. That's why he's collecting mages. He's trying to create more of you, more magic to chain down in the Fade so he can draw from it; more power for him to steal. I imagine that's how he thinks he can usurp the Archon. But I doubt he's been successful. It's a miracle you weren't made tranquil."

His head fell forward into his hands and he carded his fingers through his hair. He sighed.

"You're...taking this better than I thought..." She was almost worried at his seeming resignation.

He looked up at her, his face revealing not resignation, but an unrequited vengeance. Where she had expected fury and turbulence, she saw smoldering composure and it was terrifying in its determination. "It is simply one more thing that was taken from me. One more thing to make him pay for."

xxxx

So many disparate puzzle pieces were falling into place in his mind. If he were honest with himself, he was shocked that the irony of it all hadn't killed him right there. He was supposed to have been a mage. "A mage..." He said it aloud, trying to make believable what was easier to wrap in disbelief. The word still vaguely tasted of ashes in his mouth. If Marian hadn't been so successful at smoothing the rough edges of his hate, it's possible this revelation would have led to him throwing himself from the cliffs into the Nocen Sea to end it all.

As it was, however, this felt like anything but an end. It strangely felt like a beginning.

"I don't feel...magical." It was an absurdly stupid statement. He couldn't even belive he had said it.

Marian laughed. It was irreverent and inappropriate, and it made him feel better.

"Love," She squeaked out between bursts of laughter. "You are the most magical thing I've ever met."


	21. Manipulation

Hawke was mightily hungover. Fenris didn't look much better. Tevinter wine and Tevinter nightmares didn't suit one another. They stumbled downstairs as the sun was rising, looking like something the Fade had chewed up and spit out. Which was actually a little bit true. Orana was waiting for them at the bottom of the large winding staircase holding two glasses. Hawke couldn't help but notice that the girl held her head a little higher this morning.

"For the love of the Maker, Orana that isn't more wine, is it?" Hawke managed a weak but playful smile.

Fenris took one of the glasses and bent his nose over it. He winced slightly. "Hangover cure" he growled out, voice an octave deeper than usual, and he walked past them both, glass in hand, toward the kitchens.

Hawke took the other glass and sniffed it warily. The slightly turbid liquid smelled of citrus and saltwater and a little elfroot. She took a small sip and she had to admit it was the least unpleasant hangover remedy she had ever tried. "Hm. Not bad. Thank you Orana, you seem to know exactly what we need when we need it."

The pale haired elf smiled, obviously pleased with herself.

"Orana," Hawke needed this to be said in no uncertain terms. "Fenris and I are going to be busy doing several dangerous things to keep ourselves and everyone here safe...well, at least several, possibly more...in the meantime, I want you to know that I don't consider anyone here a slave, and I will see you all freed...officially...somehow."

Orana looked Hawke in the eyes. "I know" she said, smile still on her face. And with a curt bow, she turned and walked away.

The throbbing in her head having lessened and the warmth in her heart having grown, Hawke followed after Fenris. She found him sitting in a chair in front of the hearth sharpening one of her daggers. He drew the whetstone across the blade in long strokes. She took the chair next to him.

"I have to talk to Crasta" she announced. "I know that duplicitous scum knows exactly what Danarius is doing and I'm going to make him tell me everything about it. And everything he knows about you."

Fenris looked up from the dagger. The shortness of his temper at the moment was written plainly across his face. "He doesn't know anything about me, Marian. Despite his filthy implications." He made no attempt to conceal his vexation.

She knew his feelings were not directed at her, but she felt the need to remind him of that. "Fenris, you know that was not my meaning. I have kept my promise not to ask you about anything you do not wish to speak of. I intend to continue keeping that promise." It was a gentle admonition, but just firm enough to elicit a guilty frown from him.

He put down the blade and the whetstone and made a noise that sounded like a combination of a sigh and a grunt while he rubbed his forehead. "I have a headache."

"Is this your first hangover?" Hawke asked trying to hold back a giggle. Somehow the angry, irritated and dangerous elf in front of her seemed suddenly...cute.

"I thought you promised not to ask me anything?" He smirked at her. It was an irritated smirk, but a smirk nonetheless. He leaned back in his chair still rubbing his head. "Why must we speak with him? You are a more skilled and capable mage than any I have known. Surely you must know something about the type of magic Danarius is using?"

"First of all, I said 'I' have to talk to Crasta. I'm not letting that depraved bastard anywhere near you. Second of all, I'm not exactly what you would call a scholastically oriented mage, Fenris. I was an apostate. From a family of apostates. When we weren't running from templars and were lucky enough to have books, they were certainly not books on magic. Besides, I didn't really have to learn about casting spells or using arcane rituals and such. My magic was always just...there. My father simply taught me how to control it."

"What is that supposed to mean? And if not magic, what is in all of those books that you have with you now? And you are most certainly not going to see Crasta alone."

This was going to be a longer conversation than she thought...likely followed by an argument. She prepared herself to address his questions one at a time. "My sister started to show her magic when she was thirteen. It was little bits of elemental foolishness. My father had to teach her to cast properly." She considered how best to explain things to a mage who had never used his magic; had never even felt it inside him. "She had to learn how to form spells, how to call upon and weave her energy. She had to memorize rune crafts and recite incantations. If she wanted to do something especially taxing she needed lyrium and a staff."

Fenris was listening intently, so she continued. "I never did those things. For as far back as my memories go, I always had the ability to use my magic. I always knew it was there and was just able to use it without thinking much, if that makes any sense. I can use a staff, drink lyrium potions, form runes and recite spells just like any other mage, but I don't really need to. While my father was teaching Bethany to draw her magic out, he was teaching me how to hold mine in and only use what was necessary if any was necessary at all."

Old memories of her family flooded back to her and she could almost taste the clean cool air and smell the peat of the Fereldon woods. She thought about her sister's calm presence and quiet demeanor and she missed her with all of her heart. "Bethany was the smart one. She understood magic. I just know how to wield it."

She paused with a long sigh. "And under no circumstances, according to my father, was I ever supposed to wield it in the Fade. Which I had done a perfect job of avoiding until last night."

Fenris's eyes fell to the floor. "I haven't yet thanked you." He looked distant and conflicted. "But you could have let me be. You should have. I would have woken up eventually, I always do." Hawke's heart ached a little when she realized he actually thought she should have left him there to suffer.

"Fenris, the only way you would have stayed there was over my smoking corpse. Unfortunately, it almost came to that, so I should be the one thanking you for not letting me be lost to the demons."

He stood up and took the few steps over to where she sat. He ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed his thumb against her cheek. "You understand that I won't ever let that happen." A plain statement and she knew it to be a true one.

"See," She beamed at him. "I will protect you, and you will protect me. Told you."

He rolled his eyes and sat back down, resuming sharpening her blade. "Must you always be right?"

"No, I mustn't. I just always am. As for my books, they certainly won't be any help to us. They're just stories. Mostly romantic nonsense if you must know, but a girl has to have some guilty pleasures. Varric actually wrote a couple of them..." Should she say this now? They had had a horrible night. They were hungover. He had already had more than one unsettling bit of his past thrust out into the open. Was she really going to pour salt in his wounds by bringing this up? Not that she thought of it that way, but she knew that was how his prickly pride would interpret it.

It had been something she was wondering at, and waiting impatiently to address. She first realized it when they were burning Hadriana's occult books. He kept turning them over in his hands with an odd expression on his face before handing them to her to toss on the fire. Of course, he had said nothing, but she wasn't totally ignorant of the way things were in this country.

With only another brief moment of consideration, she decided she was only hurting him by letting him continue on in life like this, especially when she could do something about it. "I could read them to you sometime...or I could...teach you how to read them..."

Fenris stopped sharpening and looked up at her. He narrowed his eyes and just stared at her for a long time, an inscrutable expression on his face. He finally spoke. "How long were you waiting to offer this to me?"

She should have known he'd see through her. "How long would you have waited before you asked me to teach you?"

He resumed sharpening. "We'll never know now." She could see him smiling even though he had bent his head back over the dagger.

"So, that's a yes, right?"

"You know that it is." He raised his eyes to her again, gratitude written in them.

xxxx

"...After that came the argument." Hawke was catching Varric up on events. "He finally agreed to let me meet with Crasta if you and Bianca came with me, but I had to do a lot of convincing."

"Oh? Did that convincing involve anything worth putting in my new story?" Varric wagged his eyebrows and stroked his beardless chin.

"Started a new one already did you?"

"Come on Hawke, this one stands to put the rest to shame. Only you would move from a possessed renegade grey warden mage, to a fugitive ex-slave elf branded in lyrium, of all things, who is also actually a mage! I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. You know what they say, reality is stranger than fiction. Normal men just don't do it for you, do they?"

"You always put things in perspective for me Varric." Hawke shook her head as they finally reached the top of the seemingly endless staircase. They had been climbing to the top of the spire that housed the offices of the Executor. Hawke was reminded of the Viscount's offices in Kirkwall. If possible, this was even more pointlessly pompous. Several Imperial templars stood at attention in doorways. A few pretentious looking mages were talking as they waited for admittance. One tall-, though to Hawke everyone here seemed tall, -annoyed looking man in noble attire walked directly over to her and Varric.

"You are the Fereldon woman I suppose, the one called Hawke?" He looked down his large and crooked nose at them.

Varric answered. "What gave her away? Was it her striking beauty, her confident countenance...or the smell of wet dog?"

Hawke snickered in spite of herself. The man wasn't amused. "The Executor is expecting you, this way."

"Bianca and I will be right out here Hawke. Blow something up if you need us." Varric waved as she followed the man down a corridor. He gestured her through the doors to a private office and shut them behind her. Crasta sat behind a large and ornate desk, smiling as she entered and looking just as slimy as when they last met.

Hawke crossed her arms over her chest. No reason to prevaricate. "You knew what Danarius was doing."

The man's smile got a little wider and somehow, a little more threatening. She wouldn't admit it to herself but, he unnerved her. "What I know is not your concern. Your only concern, girl, is obeying my order to kill him."

"I don't know where he is and I don't know what kind of magic he is using or is capable of using. Walking into this blind is going to get me killed, and while I'm sure that would amuse you, it would leave you without an assassin, now wouldn't it?" Hawke's lips were tight with aggravation and not a small amount of trepidation. She didn't like the way he looked at her and she cursed herself for leaving Fenris behind. They had hardly left each other's side recently and she felt stronger with him around, safer, though she only now began to notice it in his absence.

Crasta rose slowly and made his way around the desk to stand in front if Hawke. "While your unrefined manner is certainly entertaining in its own primitive way, it is also disheartening that a mage with your ability is so woefully ignorant." He reached out to lift Hawke's chin with his finger. She jerked away reflexively and moved back to put several steps between them. She was careful not to break eye contact. She'd be damned if she allowed herself to be touched but that didn't mean she would be intimidated.

He shrugged his shoulders and walked away to wander the room as he continued to speak. "You dreamt of a jungle did you not?"

Hawke had to grind her teeth together to hide her shock. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how he came by his information. Either his spy network was better than Varric's, or everyone in this city was eavesdropping on everyone else's dreams.

"Danarius always was partial to Seheron. Lovely climate. Your elf will know his way around if you've never had the pleasure to visit."

Wonderful. More Maker-forsaken heat. "And his magic? I assume you know he is controlling the mana of two mages? I assume you also know he is trying to replicate the process to draw even more power?"

"Of course I know, dear girl, I was the one who helped Danarius create Fenris in the first place."

Well that explained a great deal of Fenris's massive hatred and disproportionate fear for this man. "And now it's coming back to bite you in the ass" she replied, but he ignored her.

"Tell me, did you get to taste the little wolf's magic in the Fade. He is nothing if not delicious." He drew out the words as they passed over his lips.

Hawke wanted to vomit, but she kept still as a bowstring, taut with fury. "Is that what you call it, 'tasting'? I would call it theft and perversion."

"Any worse than your perversion, rutting with the beast? I must say, it's certainly within your right to have him, but honestly my pet, sharing your bed with him afterwards? People will talk. Then again, though I can't say I've personally indulged, from what I understand, his charms have pleased many..."

Hawke snapped. Before she knew what she was doing, she had a dagger in her hand and was almost able to throw it across the room at the magister. Almost, except her arm could not complete the action. And then her hand opened without her consent and the dagger fell to the floor. Tightness gripped her muscles, something squeezing them and holding them in place. She couldn't move. She stood, body turned, arm raised and hand extended, unable to reclaim control over herself.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to fight back panic. She moved her eyes to follow Crasta as he continued to wander the room. His movements were unhurried. She saw him pull something out from under his robes. He fondled a small vial in his fingers. It glowed bright red.

Fuck. It was the only word her mind seemed able to form.

"On your knees little hawk." The command was harsh and though she pulled desperately at her magic, she just couldn't grasp it or bring it forward and her body was no longer her own. She fell to her knees.

"You will go to Seheron. If you feel you need more power to combat Danarius, then bring your little wolf and use him as he was meant to be used. The only other thing you need to know is that you should not question your betters." The phylactery disappeared from his hand and he came to stand in front of her. "This will remind you of that for now." He moved his thumb to the side of her face and lightly brushed her skin. If she could have bit him she would have. Without so much as a change of facial expression, he pulled back his hand, now balled into a fist and punched her in the face. She sprawled sideways and fell, volitional movement still out of her reach. She could feel her blood trickle into her eye as she lay there. She heard him laugh and then she caught a glimpse of the black hem of his robes as he walked out, leaving her on the floor.

xxxx

Fenris pursed his lips and held in a little choke. He studied the green liquid remaining in the glass. At Isabela's urging he accepted the drink and now he regretted it. The pair of them sat at a table in Varric's room at the inn, waiting for Marian and Varric to return. He was still cursing himself for not accompanying her. He was useless sitting here attempting to ease his anxiety with whatever it was Isabela had filled his glass with.

"Nothing helps a hangover like staying drunk." The pirate tossed back her own drink. If given the choice Fenris would have preferred to wait for Marian alone, but he suspected that she insisted he wait with Isabela thinking the woman could keep him from changing his mind and following her. She had attempted several avenues of conversation with him, most of which revolved around thinly veiled sexual innuendo. He set his glass back on the table and pushed it away from him.

"Arrgh! You are just no fun. You're lucky that brooding makes you more attractive or I simply don't know what I'd do with you." She winked at him. He got up and started pacing. Isabela sighed in defeat.

With some semblance of seriousness on her face she spoke again. "You really don't have to worry about Hawke, handsome. The girl can take care of herself. Not to mention, Varric wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. He plays coy but he has a sentimental streak, that one. Loves her like a sister. And in case you haven't figured it out yet, let me tell you something else about Hawke. No matter what kind of fight she finds herself in, she doesn't think she might win. She knows with absolute certainty that she will win. And damned if she isn't always right. It's what makes her so bleeding sexy..." Isabella purred.

Fenris stopped his pacing and glared down at her. "Exactly how well do you know Marian?" Fenris suddenly realized he liked it better when the only past lover of Marian's he knew about was dead.

"Oh, calm down, I've never had the pleasure." Isabela rolled her eyes, and then she licked her lips. "But if she ever let me, I know I'd enjoy it. Come to mention it, I'm sure I'd enjoy a man like you as well."

"I imagine you've enjoyed many." He replied dryly.

"I'm just saying, if the two of you ever feel like sharing, keep me in mind. I bet she can do fantastic things with those magical little fingers of hers." Fenris rolled his shoulders and bent his head, trying not to blush. He must have been unsuccessful because Isabela just laughed.

Thankfully his discomfort was interrupted when he heard familiar footfalls in the hallway. "Finally" he said with frustration and opened the door to see Marian standing right there...with a red and swollen eye, the thin line of a cut across her brow. He felt some kind of feral noise vibrate in his throat as he pulled her inside the room, more rough than he intended, and brought her to the open window to look at her in the light.

"Now, Elf, it's not what it looks like." Varric held up his hands in appeasement.

"It looks like he struck you in the face." Fenris couldn't stop his lyrium from burning loudly.

"I guess it is what it looks like then." Varric sat down next to Isabela.

"There's no need to glow Fenris, I'm obviously fine." She put her hand on his chest and he wished he wasn't wearing his breastplate so he could feel her touch and reassure himself that she was alright.

"Yet you couldn't heal it, could you?" His voice and his markings were growing into nearly a shout. He delicately traced the edges of the bruise with his fingers. He knew this would happen. He had let this happen. Through clenched teeth he swore an ugly streak in every language he knew.

"I only understood about half of that, but I'll assume it was just variations on a theme. Anyway yes, I tried and no, I couldn't heal it but that suits me just fine. I wouldn't want to forget to add a bit of retribution for this" She circled her damaged eye with a finger "into my elaborate plan to lead him to a painful death."

"Elaborate, eh?" Varric questioned skeptically. "Hawke, you're plans don't tend to get anymore elaborate than a full frontal assault."

Marian smiled and slid comfortably into jovial banter with the dwarf. "Whatever works." She turned back to Fenris. "I'm not made of glass Fenris. I assure you, I'm as tough as they come. You'll learn to appreciate that you have a woman who can roll with the punches...literally." She kissed him innocently on the lips then sat at the table with her friends. He was left standing trying to hold onto his worry and concern even though he knew she was right. He did appreciate her. Everything about her. And he knew he would have her no other way. Even if that meant he had to fight back the uncontrollable urge to hurt anyone who threatened her.

He joined them at the table. Marian leaned in towards Isabela. "Now, do you think you can get us to Seheron?"


	22. Conversation

Fenris had never liked ships. The spaces too tight, the people too many, everything too close, and no where to run. With Danarius, he had travelled countless times between Minrathous and Seheron and each time was a strangulating microcosm of captivity within captivity. Traveling on the sea had gotten mildly less unbearable after his escape, when he had been on his own, but only just. It was an occasional necessity, nothing more. Perhaps that was part of his lingering distrust for the pirate. Anyone who would volunteer for this as a way of life and surrender themselves to the whim of the winds and the tides was not to be trusted, in his opinion. The uncertainty of it all was too much like slavery.

As the time passed in preparation for their journey he grew more and more unsettled. Events seemed be moving faster than he had prepared for and in unexpected directions. Unbelievably unexpected directions. He could still see the path ahead of him, but when he first arrived in Minrathous he could picture it as a straight line between him and the lifeless body of his former master. Now, the path seemed to wind and turn and parts of it were covered in shadow.

In sharp contrast to the dismal clouds of foreboding that Fenris seemed to want to gather around them, Marian was a beacon of clarity that somehow grew brighter even as more and more trials were placed before her. Her eyes were alight with determination, her steps filled with purpose and her single-minded willful pursuit of winning was slowly pushing against Fenris's doubts and concerns. He also noticed that Varric and Isabela both happily fell into step alongside her resolute march to victory. Isabela's words rang true that not only did Marian seem to believe they could "win", but the dwarf and the pirate seemed to believe it as well as long as they followed her lead. His lover seemed to have Andraste's own charisma, which was fortunate because nothing short of that would have gotten him onto this boat headed to the epicenter of what he now knew to be the dark magic of all his nightmares.

Fenris leaned against the railing of Isabela's ship, the Dauntless, as the crew readied them to disembark. He took shallow breaths trying not to inhale the rancid smell of fish and saltwater. He stretched his head back to look up at the sun and then hung it down to look into the grey water beneath it. Bits of shouting, the sound of the breeze and the repetitive lapping and smacking of the waves against the hull filled his ears.

"Oi, Elf!" Fenris looked up to see one of the crew approaching him. It was a massive wall of a human with rolls of muscles threatening to break through his skin and a bald head that reflected the sun. "Here, this is for you." The man handed him a small piece of parchment.

Fenris grabbed the thing in annoyance. "Is this from Marian?"

"Who? Oh, Hawke. Aye it's from Hawke, she asked me to give it to you. Why do you call her 'Marian' anyway?"

Fenris tried not to sound aggravated, but he was largely unsuccessful. "Because that is her name."

"But everyone calls her 'Hawke'."

"I do not." Without further acknowledgment or thanks, Fenris turned back to lean over the water with his note. The large human shrugged and walked away.

The damned persistent woman had taken to communicating with him in writing. At the estate, she had had the slaves passing on bits of parchment to him at all hours. She had stuffed notes in his boots, shoved them under wine bottles, wrapped them around the hilt of his sword and stuck them on its blade. In a cheeky bit of fun, she had even covered herself in them...and nothing else...and he had found her like that on their bed. He smiled to himself and shifted his weight. That, at least, had been entertaining. In the same determined fashion with which she undertook everything, she was breaking down the walls of his ignorance and teaching him to read. The only way he could think of to repay her for it was to learn as thoroughly and as quickly as possible and hope she knew how grateful he was.

He opened the scrap of paper and he saw her now familiar boldly written script. "COME BELOW" it read. He crumpled it in his hand, tossed it over the edge into the water and did as her note instructed.

He found her in Isabela's cabin. The two women were bent over a large table covered in maps. He was unexpectedly captivated by the clevage of two pairs of breasts, spilling out a bit and slowly shifting up and down with their breath and the curve of two pert backsides, sticking out just slightly as they leaned forward. It made him feel...normal, that he could embrace the freedom of stopping to admire beauty. He was a man afterall. Isabela's brazen request, that he and Marian "share", briefly floated through his mind. Isabela looked up at him before Marian did. Her mouth twisted in a knowing and lascivious grin when she realized he was staring and she moved her gaze to Marian, who was still studying the maps. The pirate licked her lips. A streak of possessiveness shot through him and he cleared his throat to get Marian's attention. No. There would be no sharing.

Marian gestured for him to look over one of the maps. "Fenris, is this where the small island is where you said Danarius holds a fortress?" She pointed to the archipelago just to the north and east of Seheron's main city.

He came up behind her, not-so-inadvertently brushing against her as he leaned over the table. "Yes, here." He pointed to the island closest to the mainland. "It has mostly a rocky shoreline. The Qunari have never been able to take control of this group of islands. Their dreadnoughts are too cumbersome to navigate through and it's all too easy to take out smaller boats from the cliffs. As it is," he looked to Isabela, "the Dauntless will have to make berth in the city's port and we'll have no choice but to chance using a smaller boat to gain access ourselves."

"Just to be clear, Handsome, there are no Qunari in the city right now are there?" Isabela's sultry voice was laced with a hint of unease.

"They have not had a presence in the city since...well...since Marian drove them out of Kirkwall." Fenris glanced down at the small mage beside him. "After that, they withdrew what forces had been operating there presumably so the newly ascended Arishok could consolidate his power, but then they were never redeployed. The threat of attack, however, is always present."

"Hear that sweetling? It seems you drove the Qunari out of Seheron as well. You're just the Imperium's little workhorse aren't you?" Fenris felt Marian bristle at Isabela's very unfunny joke.

"Yes, I do always seem to find myself on the wrong side of manipulation, don't I?"

Isabela's eyes fell. "Hawke, I..."

Marian simply shook her head in easy dismissal. "It's alright," she said as she moved her hand over Fenris's, weaving her fingers through his. "Everything happens for a reason Isabela."

xxxx

Several days had passed and Minrathous was left far behind them. Fenris was looking for Marian again. Evening had settled and cast the ship in shadows of greys and blacks. He found her naked and sprawled across the small bed in their cabin. He saw delicate beads of sweat glisten on her skin in the random streaks of moonlight that entered the room.

She tilted her head up a slight bit. "How can you take this heat? It's worse with each inch further north we go." Her head fell back down to the bed.

"There is a thin breeze tonight. Would you like to go up to the deck?" He immediately regretted asking. She fidgeted a little and stretched, all lissome muscle and soft curves. He hoped she said no.

"Can I go up like this?"

"No."

"Then, no."

Fenris couldn't help the corner of his mouth turning up in a lopsided grin. He leisurely slipped out of his own armor and clothes. His opinion of ship travel had altered somewhat on this voyage. The crew largely avoided him. Varric told him it was a combination of fear and respect, but it mattered not to him why, just that they did. Isabela even seemed to be giving him his space. Varric told him that was because Marian had threatened her. His days were spent reading the few books they had brought for him to practice with, or playing cards with the dwarf. In the evenings he would listen to Marian sing songs from her country with the crew. In the nights she would make love to him as if she thought it would shut them out of the Fade, and for all he knew, it did because he had no nightmares and woke each morning rested and tangled in her arms.

He joined her in the bed. She twisted herself and straddled his waist. His favorite view. She placed her hand on his chest and closed her eyes to concentrate. The lyrium beneath her fingers shifted and sang.

"I do not know why you persist, Marian. It is clear I have no magic on this side of the Veil." She let her hand fall from his chest.

"I just can't imagine what kind of magic they used to do such a thing. I've been no help to you. I should be of more help to you, Fenris." He had lost count of how many times they had had this conversation. He had no adequate words to tell her how wrong she was, how much she had given him and helped him already, but he had tried. This time, he simply sat up and kissed her. He twisted his tongue into hers and tasted it in his mouth. He inhaled her breath as if it was life. The wetness at her center rubbed against him where she sat aloft and he took hold of her hips, lifting and tilting her so he could enter. When he slipped inside her, the world around him disappeared as it always did. There was no more ship and no more moonlight. There was no more pain and no lyrium in his skin. No tortured memories and no missing ones. There was just Marian and the feeling of her magic and the other feeling inside him that he was elated and terrified to realize was love.

xxxx

Hawke couldn't help but wonder if he had made love to her to shut her up. She supposed he didn't know her that well afterall.

"Fenris?"

"That wasn't enough to silence your fretting?" He flipped her over onto her back and perched above her. One of his hands grasped her thigh and pulled her leg up around his waist. She stopped him with her finger on his mouth as he leaned in to try to kiss her.

"Have you had any more nightmares?"

Fenris sighed and pushed himself off of her. He rose from the bed and walked over to the small window. He stared out at the sea. "I have not. Is that not a good thing?"

"Of course that's a good thing. I just wish we knew more about what to expect when we arrive. If we could find your sister again and speak with her..."

"Marian, I do not want you seeking out my sister in the Fade. It is dangerous and there is no guarantee that I would be with you. We still do not know what threat she may pose if any."

"She's not a threat Fenris. I truly believe she trying to protect you."

"Exactly. You said she told you that she did not want my family to be used against me again, correct? We have no idea what that means. Even if she has no ill intentions of her own, we do not know how Danarius could use her against us. The Fade is not the place to find that out. If what we suspect is true, that Danarius does have her, then we will see her soon enough when he is dead."

Hawke got up and walked over to where Fenris stood. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair then let her hand rest on the nape of his neck. "Love, I am certain that nothing, in the history of either of our lives, was ever that simple."

He turned his head to the door. "Isabela approaches."

After three blunt knocks Isabela called out from the other side of the door. "Hawke, can I speak with you in my cabin? Elf and clothes are optional." They heard her footsteps walk back down the corridor.

Hawke moved to gather her clothing. "Coming?" She looked over her shoulder at Fenris as she bent down to pick up her smalls.

"No. I do not want to give her any ideas."

xxxx

Hawke noticed Isabela looked a little disappointed when she showed up in her cabin clothed and without an elf.

"I don't feel good, Hawke." Isabela folded her arms across her chest and paced the room.

"Well where's that pretty healer you've been bedding? I'm sure she has several clever spells to cure whatever ails you. You don't need me, you know I'm the last mage you want trying to heal you."

"I don't know, Hawke, you've been doing quite a job of it on your elf. All his prickly bits seem less prickly lately. But, that's not what I mean. I'm fine. But the air...and the water...I don't like how they feel. It's a sailor thing. Something's on the wind. I can smell it. Or sense it. Or whatever. Anyway, sweet thing, I'm worried, so you should be too."

Hawke couldn't help but think that this was less than helpful. Not one blessed thing about anything they were doing didn't worry her. No reason not to keep piling it on. "I suppose it isn't possible for you to be even a hair more specific?"

"If I could, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Isabela sat on top of her map covered table. "Hawke, the reason I'm telling you this is because, since we're tits deep in shit again, I want you to know what you don't have to worry about. It's good to see you happy for a change...with Fenris, I mean, not with being tits deep. It's just right. I was worried about you when I left you in Minrathous. I kept wishing you had stayed in Kirkwall or come with me. But now, I'm glad. See, you and Anders..."

Hawke shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Isabela, that's the past..."

"Let me finish. You and Anders. It was wrong, Hawke. All wrong. I just didn't know it until I saw you with Fenris. I should have seen it before then. A better friend wouldn't have let you get so deep into...that."

"Isabela, please..." Hawke had shut the door on that chapter. She didn't want it re-opened.

"This one is worth it, Hawke."

"Uh...what?" She wasn't sure she understood where Isabela was going with this.

"You and Fenris. He's worth it. Whatever you two are is worth it. Whatever it is on the horizon that worries me, I can tell you, it isn't him. I just wanted you to know...you know...as your friend."

This was easily the most awkward conversation she had ever had with Isabela. And it was also the most meaningful. Hawke was sure she'd regret it, but she closed the distance between them and pulled the other woman into an embrace.

When Isabela grabbed her ass, she immediately regretted it. Hawke pulled away and Isabela pouted. "Thanks, Isabela. For the talk, not the groping. It means a lot coming from you."

The pirate winked. "That's me. I'm a helper."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in Fenris's reading lesson that he mentioned I posted the little vignette as a companion bit under Diversions, Chapter-"Notes". Thanks for reading.


	23. Lost

"Deserted?" Fenris was incredulous.

"Deserted." Varric turned away, obviously done with having to answer the same question over and over.

Fenris sat next to Marian at the table in Isabela's cabin. The Dauntless was docked, but he and Marian had yet to leave the ship. She had made several impassioned attempts to persuade the small group that a direct offensive on Danarius's fortress was the most desirable plan. Instead, Varric had suggested that he and Isabela first survey their quarry and attempt to slip onto the island undetected to gather information. They would be less conspicuous than a lyrium marked elf and a, (much as he loved her), overly outspoken and largely indelicate mage from Fereldon.

At first, and as predicted, Marian dismissed Varric's plan citing several irrational reasons that essentially amounted to her wanting to kill things as soon as possible. Much as Fenris agreed with the foundation of her argument that, yes, killing things was the ultimate outcome, he decided in favor of reason and strategy. When he supported Varric and suggested that the two of them wait on the ship pending reconnaissance, he was not expecting she would relent without further quarrel. But that was exactly what happened and to the abject amazement of her friends.

Varric pulled him aside a bit later on and said, "Elf, that was the first, and I mean the first time I've ever seen Hawke just...just...listen to someone else. I don't know what you did to get that to happen, but oh could we have used you years ago!"

So Elf and Mage had allowed Pirate and Dwarf to take a small boat to the island that should have housed Danarius, but instead they found...

"Nothing? Really? How is that even possible?" Marian was apparently just as incredulous as he was.

Varric threw his arms up in the air with his back turned to them. Isabela answered. "No magister, no slaves, no minions, no demons. There wasn't even any stuff inside to steal, and believe me, I looked. There were stone walls and empty air and that's it. So, now what?"

Fenris rose to pace the room. He wasn't sure what exactly he had been expecting but it wasn't this. He had assumed Danarius would know that they were coming, but never did he think the magister would run. The man's avarice knew no limit. He had not hunted Fenris for years across half of Thedas simply to give up what he considered to be his possession. Especially one so valuable.

They were all silently considering their next possible set of options. Fenris spoke first. "There are few other places he would be able to operate with impunity. The Archon knew he was a threat and no matter how many supporters he may have had in the ranks of the magisterium, whether by choice or no, Danarius was still driven from Minrathous. Seheron holds the easiest availability of resources for him outside of the capital and the most protection from interference in his plans. He would not just abandon it entirely. There must be more here we're missing."

"If there really is nothing there, then it should be safe for Fenris and I to go and have a look around ourselves. We might be able to...I don't know...feel something." Marian's brow was deeply furrowed as she spoke. "Or maybe I can use the energy in the place to weave a spell to help us find him." She squinted and grimaced as if trying to remember long forgotten childhood lessons.

Varric looked at her with a dubious expression. "Seriously, Hawke? You mean you have magic where people don't die?"

Marian feigned a look of shock at the dwarf and was about to respond to the affront when Fenris decided he had had enough. He grabbed her by the arm and led her out of the cabin. "It's decided." Fenris felt so close he could taste the vengeance on his tongue. This unexpected turn of events would not deter him. They would find Danarius. "Marian and I will go in the morning."

xxxx

Fenris floated along on his back in frigid black water. The red sky above him blurred and wavered. As the water lapped at his ears he could hear bits of muffled whispers but couldn't make out words.

I shouldn't be here...

He was pulled under. He felt arms wrap around his waist like a vice and he kicked and struggled, his head bobbing up and then under again. He choked and sputtered out the cold water like icicles in his throat. He flailed his arms madly, fighting the pull at his midsection that was trying to bring him down further. He twisted and curled into a ball and he let his lyrium flare. A shockwave of white light illuminated the dark water and the force pulling him suddenly released. He kicked himself up to the surface again and swam desperately for the sandy banks. The river seemed to stretch out before him endlessly as he stroked against the currents.

On the very distant shore, a speck of a figure was wildly animated. He swam harder, lyrium flashing, his breath tearing at his chest. He saw the form of a woman through the wet tendrils of his hair and the water running into his eyes. She waved her arms and her mouth was moving...shouting. He couldn't hear what she was saying.

Hands grabbed at his ankles and tried to pull him under again. He kicked out and he felt the lyrium burn hot even against the freezing water. He was almost to the shore now, and the woman kept shouting. He saw long red hair whip around a familiar face.

Varania

His limbs couldn't move fast enough. He knew he moved forward but the shore started receding away from him again. The shouts, however, started to grow in his ears and he could make out the words now.

"wake up..."

He concentrated.

"Wake Up..."

He stopped swimming and just floated there. He closed his eyes.

"WAKE UP!"

xxxx

"FENRIS WAKE UP!"

He shot straight up. He was drenched in sweat but he was shivering. Hot and humid air entered his lungs. His blinked his eyes and focused. Fingers dug into his shoulders. Marian was shaking him.

"What...?" His voice cracked. He felt Marian's hands shoot energy into his lyrium and suddenly his senses spilled back into reality. Her eyes were urgent and she was standing beside the bed. There was yelling outside. He whipped his head to the door. A rune burned on it, crackling and sizzling and throbbing out towards them as it absorbed pounding from the other side. He heard metal clamor and swords being drawn from scabbards. He heard swearing and the pounding against the door grew more violent.

"FENRIS! Are you with me? Focus! My rune won't hold. They're templars, I can feel it. I don't know where our friends are. We have to fight? Can you fight?"

He wasn't given a choice. Marian's rune cracked and disappeared and the door burst open. Two men pushed simultaneously into the small room. Marian released Fenris, magic gathering around her and she shoved out at the intruders with it, but her force was met with the wave of a hand from one of the men and she staggered backwards and clutched at her chest. Fenris's lyrium burned and with a primal yell he launched himself at the men.

He was able to tackle the one that attacked Marian. He wrested the man's shield from his grip and turned it on him, slamming it down onto his face. The other enemy came up from behind and yanked Fenris off of his comrade, practically lifting the elf into the air.

Suddenly the man let go of him and screamed. Fenris stumbled back down to the ground and saw him claw at his head and wail as blood seeped out of his nose. Fenris turned and saw a wicked smile grace Marian's face. She grunted in satisfaction as she finished the man she had in the grasp of her deadly spell and he fell to floor face first. The other templar had recovered by now and again he sent a pulse of hateful magic-stifling power at Marian and this time she was pushed back against a wall.

Fenris moved in a flash of lyrium light and grabbed his sword from where it leaned against the opposite wall. In one broad sweep the templar lost his head and it tumbled to the floor at Marian's feet. She steadied herself and stood. He grabbed her daggers off of the table by the bed and tossed them to her.

There were dozens of uneven heavy footsteps landing above them and the sounds of struggle echoed all around. More yelling and the clash of metal came from the corridor.

Fenris cursed himself and all the gods. They were on a ship and there was no where to run. He grabbed her hand and pulled her after him into the narrow hallway.

Just as they exited their room someone shouted at them. "DUCK!" It was Varric and they both hit the floor. Two bolts from Bianca, firing in rapid succession, sang past their heads and found marks in the chest of another would be attacker.

He rose, pulling Marian up with him. Varric rushed towards them cocking another bolt in Bianca. Fenris's voice was rough with anger and fright that he didn't want to own. He looked to the others. "What happened, what is going on?"

Marian's reply was solid and clear, because she knew that was what was needed and Fenris felt bolstered by it. "We were asleep and I heard a warning shout from the sentry. Not seconds later, those templars were trying to break down the door. I couldn't wake you. It was obvious something was trying to keep you in the Fade."

"I was in the black river. Something was pulling me under. My sister was shouting at me to wake." Fenris's mind grasped at the fading wisps of his dream, trying to remember.

Varric ushered them forward impatiently towards the stairs leading to the deck. "Much as I love stories about the Fade, we have to find Rivaini, now go!"

Fenris pulled Marian closer to him as they ascended the stairs to the deck. An ominous feeling coursed through him alongside his battle rush. His fingers curled tighter around her wrist, not wanting to let her go.

xxxx

Fenris was still holding onto her wrist, pulling her along. Something in his grip told her that he was holding onto more than just her muscle and bone.

They pushed forward onto the deck and walked into a mad scene. Hawke saw every man and woman of Isabela's crew engaged in battle. Hawke smelled blood magic in the air and it raised the hairs on her skin. There were templars, bought for a fix of lyrium, and maleficarum, bought with a demon's promise, fighting alongside each other and against Hawke's people.

She and Fenris both moved at the same time, breaking their point of contact. His sword flashed past her, a streak of bright metal in the moonlight and then Fenris himself was a streak of light as he carved through a line of Rage demons that one of the blood mages had summoned. Hawke reached out with her magic and grabbed at the water flowing around the ship. A wave rose straight up at her command and she swiped it across the ship's bow, washing at least several of their opponents overboard.

The magic drew the attention of a templar and she felt the cold silence come upon her. She drew her daggers and started weaving in and around the chaos, letting her blades cut wherever they could, trying to reduce the enemy numbers.

She caught a glimpse of Varric dancing with Bianca, where the couple had made their way to the stern. Isabela was alongside them. She was shadow and sharp blades, darting faster than Hawke could follow with her eyes as she tried to keep her crew alive. But Hawke had lost track of Fenris. She sliced her way through two Shades and called out for him.

The reply she received was an agonizing sound and she felt before she saw his lyrium burn white hot against the dark of the night. She shot her head around to the sound and saw two blood mages surrounding Fenris where he stood at the bow that was still wet from her wave. The glowing red spiteful lines of a rune were quickly expanding beneath his feet. He had dropped his sword and his fingers tore at his arms as the lyrium in his skin seared him from the inside.

Marian was a thing possessed as she screamed his name and her magic moved her instantaneously to his side. She dug deep within, her magic still faint from the templar attacks. She drew out flame from her hands and engulfed one of the mages who was pouring pain into Fenris. She dug deeper and swept her arm to the other blood mage, but he called a shield of energy around himself and her flames burned out harmlessly against it. The rune underneath them continued to expand. Marian was trying to drag the agony stricken Fenris away from it when she heard a command shouted from one of the templars.

"You have them both, you fool, just take them now!"

Hawke suddenly realized what was happening.

xxxx

Fenris felt Marian roughly grab the back of his neck and she forced him to look at her. He struggled to focus on her face even as his lyrium wanted to pull him into oblivion. He saw her lips move and it took everything in him to concentrate on her words.

"Fenris! I'm sorry, but I know you'll find me." And then her hands were on his chest and she shoved him away with both of her arms with all the force she had in her.

Time seemed to slow. He felt her hands leave his chest where she pushed him and he lost his footing. As he fell backwards over the side rail of the ship he saw Marian standing where he had been in the middle of the rune with the blood mage. As he descended into the safety of the water below, he saw the lines of the rune flare in completion and then with another flash of light, she was gone.


	24. Unhinge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "intrigue"- the secret planning of something illicit or detrimental to someone...

Fenris hit the water. Steam rose up off the surface with a hiss from the contact of the cool sea with the burning lyrium in his skin. The weight of his body sank down with the momentum of his fall. If given the choice, he would have let himself drown rather than face a single moment of his life with Marian absent from it. That would be no freedom he would wish for. But she wasn't gone. Not completely. Not without hope. She had ordered him to find her. And he would obey his mistress.

He turned himself upright and pushed his legs down propelling his body up towards air. He was an automaton as he broke the surface and swam to the nearest of the pylons lining the weathered docks. He had left his emotions and his logical thought under the water. He was moving on instinct. His heartbeat raced and his breath came too quickly and too shallow. The old familiar pain pulling at him was back and it had grown immense. How could he have forgotten what it used to feel like? What it felt like before...

Enough. He buried the pain deep; willing it to disappear in the black corner of his mind that hid the memories of anything before its existence. The only thing he would allow his consciousness to acknowledge was the single goal of finding Marian. Nothing else mattered. He pulled himself onto the wooden boards and dripped a path back to the deck of the Dauntless.

He absently stepped over dead bodies and the smoking remains of demons. Varric, Isabela, and her crew apparently finished off the remaining intruders to their ship. They were more skilled than he would have originally given them all credit for. These people had earned Marian's trust and respect however, so he should not have questioned their abilities. He saw Varric and Isabela hovering over two men kneeling on the deck, hands clasped behind their necks. Fenris walked over to them, soaked to the bone, hair matted to his face, eyes filled with single-minded determination.

Varric had Bianca aimed at the men. Marian's friends looked grim. They didn't know what she had said to him before she disappeared. They didn't know that he had hope.

Isabela tried to speak to him as he approached. "Fenris, we left these two alive..."

But he ignored her and walked up to the first prisoner on his knees. He grabbed a fistful of the man's hair and slammed his face down onto the deck. Fenris lifted him back up again and pressed his mouth against the captive's ear to speak. "Where is she?" He roared the demand so viciously it almost didn't sound like words. The man was too shocked to answer even if he had wanted to. Fenris forced his head back down again and the sound of bones cracking cut the air. "Where is she?" He asked again. The man's face was bubbling and bloody and he gurgled something unintelligible. Fenris didn't even bother to try to understand. He struck the man's face against the deck over and over again, without letting him answer.

"Fenris! Fenris, that's going to kill him!" He heard Varric shout at him over the fleshy thud of the man's head hitting the planks.

"No. But this will..." Fenris pulled the man back up to his knees, fingers still tight around his hair. He drew back his other hand and he let himself submit to the control of the lyrium. He shoved his fist into the man's chest and squirmed his hand around for a moment before he locked onto his target. He pulled the vital muscle out into the open world it should never have seen. Fenris dropped the man's heart on the deck, his fingers slick with blood. He was vaguely aware of wide eyed stares from those watching as the heart beat several times in front of them before the lifeless body of its owner fell on top of it.

"Holy fucking shit..." The pirate had a mouth true to her heritage.

Fenris, with dead eyes and a bloody fist, took one step towards the other man on his knees.

"NO! WAIT! PLEASE! PLEASE!" The terror-stricken human stumbled backwards and ran into Isabela's legs. He turned and clung to her boots trying to hide behind her. Isabela backed away and the man fell onto his hands. Varric also took several wary steps back from Fenris, but he lowered Bianca and held out one of his hands in a half-hearted attempt to halt Fenris's warpath.

"Elf, just wait. He'll tell us where she is. Just let him talk..." The dwarf's voice was even and controlled. Marian trusts them, he had to repeat it to himself several times before he was able to calm his lyrium. As the light of the lines on his skin dimmed, he noticed the others releasing the breaths they had all been holding.

Fenris balled his hands into fists at his sides and spoke through clenched teeth and snarling lips. "Where Is She?"

The man couldn't speak fast enough. On his hands and his knees before Fenris he sputtered, "Abandoned slaver caves! Two days by ship, north, along the coast! Those were our orders, we were supposed to bring both of you. She'll be there I swear. I swear! Please don't kill me..."

Fenris took half a step forward. "He's lying. The settlements on the northern coast are all controlled by the Qunari."

"No! No! The entrance is in a hidden cove. The Qunari don't know about it. It's only visible sailing up from the south, you'll see it if you hug the shoreline. Those Tevinters who hired us, they're keeping their lyrium stockpiles there. A fortune in lyrium! I swear I'm telling the truth! Please, I don't want to die!"

Isabela drew a dagger and leaned into the man from behind. "It's too late for that, love..." She slit the man's throat in one clean and elegant sweep of her arm.

"Rivaini!" Varric looked up to the fading night sky, shaking his head. "Was that necessary?"

"Hey, it was a lot kinder than what he would have done to him." She gestured at Fenris with her blood streaked blade.

A low growl vibrated in Fenris's throat. He had always been a patient man. A virtue that had helped him survive. But now, with Marian gone from his side, her fate unknown, that virtue no longer existed for him. "Two days..."

Isabela sheathed her dagger. "Don't you worry, I'll get us there in one."

xxxx

"Venhedis!" Hawke held a hand against her throbbing forehead. She was cursing in Tevene now. Either she'd been in Tevinter far too long or, Fenris was rubbing off on her.

When she had rematerialized, they were just inside the entrance to a cave but it wasn't just a wild hollow of rock. At a quick glance, the place certainly looked as if some kind of enterprise was taking place there. She only got a quick glance, because she immediately attacked the blood mage that had transported them there. He wore her dagger in his chest before he could even recover from such an exacting spell. Unfortunately they were not alone and she was hit by another templar assault. More of them surrounded her than she could take down on her own with only the dregs of her battered magic left to her. She would have happily tried though, had she not been immediately struck on the head and knocked unconscious with what she thought must have been the pommel of a sword.

She reached up now to feel the spot where the blow had landed. It was sticky with blood and matted hair. She attempted to heal it but even reaching deep inside her she couldn't muster enough magic to do the job. She had sustained so many attacks it would take some time to recover.

"Fucking templars", she winced and mumbled to herself. They had been bad enough when the lot of them were gainfully employed, but now, these templar-vagrants high on contraband lyrium were far more dangerous and far more potent. She rolled herself to sit upright and looked around. She was alone in a small room. The rock walls and dirt floors were braced here and there with wooden beams and the only light was from small candles set atop a few sparse pieces of furniture. There was a door and though she knew it was wasted effort, she checked to make sure it was locked. She listened at it and tried to peek through the tiny gaps in the slats of wood. Torch light flickered in the corridor outside and she could hear the echo of water dripping from somewhere. She looked around the room. Alone. No weapons. No magic.

"This is going to be slightly more of a challenge than I expected..." She spoke out loud to herself. Slightly more of a challenge but this was how it had to be. She would have sooner carved her own heart out of her chest than see Fenris suffer anymore of whatever the blood mage's magic was doing to him, and it had been the right thing to push him out of harm's way. Better one of them was free to mount a rescue, and better that it was him. Her magic would recover. His was trapped in the Fade. She could deal with templar attacks, but these fucking maleficarum had some kind of spell that could cripple him through his lyrium. As she paced the room and thought up a few more curses she could apply to her situation, she ruefully recalled how Fenris had told her in a roundabout fashion that she swore like a sailor.

It was still meltingly hot and from the water she could hear and the look of the cave she must still be in Seheron and near the coast to boot. She wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious, but she hoped it was long enough for Fenris to torture any possible surviving enemies for information, what else would he do after all, and for Isabela to get them moving on the water again to find her.

She turned and her heartbeat quickened when she heard the echo of hurried and heavy footsteps approaching. She quickly considered taking a position behind the door to give her a tactical advantage but, as Varric continually reminded her, that just wasn't her style. She stood boldly in the middle of the room, facing the door.

The lock was hastily turned and the door flung wide open. There were two men. Both were tall and broad, one young and one of middle years. The young one was armed with a sword and a scowl. The older one...Hawke had seen him before...

The familiar man took only two steps to reach her and without a word he grabbed her up by the thin material of her tunic and pushed her back until her legs ran into a table along the wall. Hawke tried to pull at his hands where he gripped at her chest trying to remember where she could have seen him before. He was vibrating with rage and what would have been vaguely aristocratic features were twisted into a snarling visage.

"You bitch!" Saliva sprayed Hawke in the face as the man spoke."You disgusting dog-lord bitch!"

Kirkwall. She had seen this man in Kirkwall before. "You're Cassian?" Hawke struggled against him with renewed motivation. The merchant just moved himself up on the list to die.

"I didn't avoid your stench all those years in Kirkwall only to have you interfere in my affairs here, now." He pulled her closer to his face. "You're working with him aren't you? The scheming bastard leaves, instead of the slave I end up with only you, and now the Qunari are battering down my door! How long were you filthy mages planning this?"

What? Hawke frantically tried to weave the strands of information together in her head even as she tried to twist out of the crazed man's grasp. Scheming bastard? Filthy mage? Danarius? Did he think she was working with Danarius? Oh, but this is just too much, she thought to herself, but wait, what was that about Qunari?

Cassian pulled one set of fingers off of her tunic and backhanded her across the mouth. Hawke's head turned sideways. When she turned back to him she offered him a blood streaked smile. He was doing a wonderful job unraveling at the seams of his sanity. There was no need for her to interject yet.

"Do you think I'm stupid? It was far too convenient that you ended up in Minrathous. He had you kill Hadriana too didn't he? He never trusted her either, but she was worthless anyway. Did you think informing the Quanri of this place would do the job of eliminating me with no repercussions? Well that was a poor gambit, Serah Hawke. Danarius can cower in Kirkwall for as long as he likes. He won't get far without my help. I'll be on my way back to Minrathous before the horned animals make it down here. You, however, will be staying to greet your friends."

He didn't let go of Hawke, but he turned to address the man with the sword. "Get the others and bring the mages enough lyrium to cast the rune to get us out of here. I'll meet you at the cove entrance." He nodded his head at the man who scurried off to follow the orders. Cassian turned back to Hawke.

She didn't like the look in his eyes. She thought of Orana. He whispered to her, "I'll just need to thank you for all this before I go..."

xxxx

Fenris thought he actually saw Isabela's hand tremble as she held the spyglass up to her eye. Her voice was low and serious and he had come to recognize that wasn't a good thing. "There are two of them." She said. "Definitely moving this way, and faster than I'd like."

"I thought the Qunari weren't supposed to know about this place?" Varric shook his head in disbelief. "Now, somehow, right now, there are two dreadnoughts bearing down on it? Did they know we were coming?"

Fenris took the spyglass from Isabela to look for himself. He suspected someone had tipped off the Qunari in the hopes of secretly manipulating them into eliminating all the players on the field in one fell swoop. There was no way to know yet who had set the plan in motion, but he had his suspicions. "I doubt that 'we' are the only reason the Qunari are here. They are a broadsword, not a scalpel. They are not contract killers. Whoever alerted them to this place was seeking to eradicate everyone involved in this, all at once."

Varric looked at him, seeming exhausted. "I'm no stranger to intrigue, Elf, but you Tevinters take it to a whole new level."

Isabela exercised her right as captain and proceeded to bark orders at them. "Alright, men. I have to stay here and make sure we're ready to leave, fast. You two need to get in there, find Hawke and bring her back as quickly as possible."

Another order Fenris was all too happy to follow.

xxxx

Cassian shoved Hawke onto her back on the table and his hands started to claw at her clothes. Their limbs tangled together as she struggled against him and he grappled for dominance. He struck her again across the mouth and she spit a mouthful of blood back at him. It didn't get her the reaction she hoped when instead she felt his hardness press against her thigh as they fought against each other.

"By all means keep it up, you Fereldon whore. I like a fighter." And he laughed as he leaned his head down to hers.

She wasn't about to find out what he would do as he leaned in because she head butted him. He jerked back in pain, blood in his nose and tears watering up in his eyes. She seized the opportunity and launched herself at him. They tumbled to the floor and it turned into a brawl. The man was twice her size but she was no stranger to a street fight. This fool was just some bully of a noble who thought he could force another girl. He picked the wrong girl, and with that thought she managed to land her knee on his groin.

He cried out in pain and anger. Hawke scrambled to put distance between them, but even as one of his hands grabbed his damaged goods, his other hand locked onto Hawke's wrist and dragged her back down.

Hawke pulled and pulled at her magic as they continued to go at each other, but it was still silent as a grave. He managed to roll onto her and he pinned her to the ground. He landed a heavy fist square on her jaw and her vision wavered with the blow. He brought his fist down again and she cursed her muscles as they started going weak and she saw black closing in around her. She used her willpower alone to fight back unconsciousness while his laughter filled her ears and she felt his hands grabbing again at her clothes.

And then she felt him.

She actually felt him approach. The sixth sense inside her felt his steel and leather and lyrium and her magic was alive again. But she wouldn't even need to use it. The door to the small room broke open and the next thing Hawke saw was an elf-shaped glow and a fist sticking through Cassian's chest.


	25. Jump

Hawke and her magic were content to let the next series of events just happen. Fenris pulled his fist out of Cassian's chest and both of them were sprayed with fresh blood from the gaping hole. He tossed the body aside as if it was an empty sack and it landed in a heaped mess on the ground beside them. Hawke felt herself be lifted up and into the air. She felt Fenris's arms wrap protectively around her, his fingers squeezing more tightly than necessary. He hoisted her up against him so that her head was above his and he buried his blood spattered face in her neck. His breath was harsh and uneven against her skin and she was reminded of the first time they made love when he seemed to want every part of him to be in physical contact with her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her fingers feel the lines of lyrium there. They felt burning hot at first but they seemed to cool under her touch and thin ever so slightly. If her magic could have spoken words it would have thanked her as his very presence seemed to breathe life back into her injured powers.

Fenris lowered her to her feet, but wouldn't release his hold around her. She slid down his body until she touched the ground again. He looked down at her face and into her eyes and he seemed to be searching her for the right words to say.

"Marian..." Her name came off his lips in a parched and hungry croak.

Hawke was still dizzy from almost being knocked unconscious but she didn't feel nearly as pained as he looked. She smiled at him in reassurance and decided she would help him sum things up. They didn't quite have time at the moment to indulge in the myriad of feelings he was probably both unfamiliar with and didn't understand.

"Fenris. You found me, just like I said you would. I am fine. You, in no particular order, are angry, scared, concerned, relieved, a little crazed and possibly a bit aroused."

"You're hurt..." It seemed he decided to go with a combination of angry and concerned first.

"I'm better now, I swear." She pushed away and looked him up and down. "You're covered in blood..."

"None of it's his Hawke, believe me." Varric stepped into the room answering her unvoiced question. "You know, Elf, fighting next to you is a little too much like fighting next to Hawke, which is to say that 'next to you' actually means running behind you trying not to get hit with flying body parts." He nodded to Hawke. "You okay?"

Varric and Hawke had been through enough together that those two words of concern were all that was needed between them and meant more than any long speech ever could. "I'm fine, Varric, thanks, but we really have to go and go now. Danarius isn't here. I'll explain later. I heard there are Qunari trying to get into this place."

"They are already inside. We ran into several on our way through the passages." Fenris found his voice and looked just slightly more comfortable in his skin again.

"He means he killed several on our way through the passages. And, there are two dreadnoughts full of them bearing down on Rivaini as we speak, so let's go before she gets twitchy and starts to think leaving without us is a good idea." Varric looked both ways down the corridor before he chose a direction, expecting them to follow.

Fenris held his hand out to her even as he pulled his sword off of his back and made it ready with his other hand.

Hawke bent down to the mutilated body of Danarius's associate. She pulled his signet ring off one swollen finger and pocketed it. Turning back to Fenris, she took his outstretched hand. He looked at her questioningly.

"It's a gift for Orana."

xxxx

Fenris held onto Marian's hand so tightly he thought he might be cutting off the blood circulating through it. He didn't care. She'd have to live with it. He wasn't letting go for anything this time. They followed Varric back through the stone passages passing the dead bodies he had made on their way in. He barely remembered killing so many. As soon as they entered this place he could feel Marian again and all he had to do was follow the feeling. That these people had gotten in his way and met a gruesome end by his hand was inconsequential to him.

Varric paused to look around a corner and they halted. Marian gestured to a severed head lying near its body. "This man was with Cassian, he was ordered to gather some mages so they could escape. They were going to use that translocation spell again, but they needed lyrium."

Varric waved them on and they continued winding through. Up ahead, Fenris could hear shouting and his markings burned a little deeper at the feeling of magic being cast.

"Dwarf." He got Varric's attention and nodded his head backwards instructing him to get behind them. Varric understood and moved position. Fenris pulled Marian back and stepped ahead of her, but he didn't let go of her hand. He led with his greatsword as he rounded the bend.

They walked in on a fight taking place in a large intersection. A Saarebas and his Arvaarad were engaged with three Tevinter mages, one in magister robes, the other two likely apprentices. A small group of elves were hugging the walls in the opposite corridor.

Fenris looked down at Marian, unsure of how to proceed. She shrugged her shoulders and spoke, also somewhat uncertain. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend...?"

Varric answered. "Ummm...which one is which in this situation?"

Fenris saw no need to make this complicated. "I see only enemies. Whoever isn't killed by the other will be killed by me."

As if on cue, the magister managed to gain the upper hand and the charred bodies of the Qunari fell to the ground. Fenris was about to make good on his word to kill the victors when the sound of an explosion reverberated in the cavern. Everyone flinched and ducked waiting for falling rock but they appeared to be far enough away from the blast.

The magister shouted out in frustration. "Those barbarians are blowing up the lyrium stores!"

"Why would they do that?" Varric said, "They're going to collapse the caves!" He looked around nervously apparently realizing if the explosions caused a cave-in there would be no exit. Fenris noted that, for a dwarf, he seemed to have no love for the stone.

Marian supplied his answer. "Varric, do you think the Qunari want the magisters to have lyrium? And if they're buried alive, 'all the better' they're thinking, I'm sure."

The magister then noticed the three of them standing there and she addressed them, desperation obvious in her voice. "You! You're the Hawke woman! Did you plan this? We don't have the lyrium we need for the translocation spell that brought you here; we couldn't get to it before the ox-men overran the place. Do you have another way out? Surely we can come to an agreement under the circumstances?"

Fenris lifted up his sword as he snarled. "Here's your way out..." and he started advancing on them, pulling Marian behind him.

"Fenris, wait. They're rather quick to change their loyalties aren't they?" He stopped. Marian questioned the magister. "These people," she gestured to the elves, "are these your slaves?"

The magister replied eagerly. "Yes, take them, leave them, they're yours if you want them, just help us get out of here!"

Marian walked over to the woman, now pulling Fenris behind her. She appeared to consider the offer. Fenris knew better, and she proved him right when she spoke. "Bring the slaves," she declared, and her mouth twisted into a satisfied grin, "leave the magisters."

"What?! How dare you..." The magister never finished her sentence. Without pause, Fenris shoved his sword through the woman's chest.

He pulled it free and Marian spoke to the apprentices who looked on wide eyed. "Anyone else care to object?" The two took off running down one of the passages.

Varric rubbed his forehead. "I'm not certain you two are entirely healthy for one another."

Fenris couldn't imagine what he meant. He felt perfectly healthy at the moment. Marian brought them back to the task at hand. She extended her hand towards the slaves left behind by the mages and bowed a little to Fenris deferring to him. At least she had come to accept he was more effective at these interactions than she was. He shouted a command over to them as he led Marian down one of the connecting passages. "You will come with us if you want to live." The slaves abruptly fell into step behind them.

They hadn't gone a dozen steps before another explosion shook the walls. This time closer and louder and the party stopped. The aftershocks continued to rumble and shift the rocks around them and things started to fall. Everyone was ducking and side stepping small rocks as they tumbled down but just as the stone settled, a second blast sounded. The ceiling above shattered like glass. Without thinking, Fenris dropped his sword, grabbed Marian up and dove into a side passage away from the falling stone. At the same time, he felt her push out with the force of her magic towards Varric and the slaves, sending them backwards out of the way.

Fenris landed on his back with Marian on top of him. The shaking stopped and the loose rocks settled. When the dust dissipated he saw that he and Marian were on the wrong side of the cave-in. Marian pushed off of his chest, coughing and sputtering. She stepped over to the wall of fallen rocks and felt up and down and looked in and around the boulders blocking them off from the passage that led out to the cove and back to their ship.

"Varric!" She shouted at the rocks. "Varric, are you alright? Is everyone safe?"

Fenris got up and moved to stand next to her. He grabbed hold of her hand again and she squeezed him tightly, her sweaty palm betraying her concern.

Muffled words came from the other side. "Hawke! Can you hear me? We're all fine." Marian's hand relaxed a little inside his.

"Varric, Fenris and I can't get back to you. Get those people back to the ship; we'll have to find another way out."

"You'd better, Hawke!" He shouted to them, and then he and Marian were alone.

Her dark eyes looked up at him and she was the picture of calm. He wondered at their situation. They were now lost in a cave under siege by Qunari. It was just like Danarius to set up his illicit operations in such a dangerous location, his vainglory surpassing any sense. Or perhaps he thought being right under a sleeping dragon's nose would offer him some kind of perverse protection. Either way it was now Fenris who was suffering the consequences of his former master's actions, like always. Even if he and Marian made it out to daylight there was no guarantee they would make it back to the ship. Yet somehow, he saw in her eyes that she thought everything would be just fine, and he found himself trusting in her. She pulled him forward, their hands still joined, and he knew right then that he would allow himself to be led into the void if it was by her hand.

xxxx

Hawke and Fenris ran round blindly through passages and had to backtrack several times when they came onto dead ends. Twice more there was the rumble of a distant explosion and Fenris would stop them to pull her close until he felt the danger had passed.

Soon they heard movement and Qunari voices ahead and they slowed their pace. Fenris stopped and he tilted his head, listening. Hawke held her breath and waited.

Fenris whispered to her, relaying what he was hearing. "They've destroyed all of the lyrium stockpiles and have captured several of Cassian's men. They're going to search the rest of the passages. We're close to the inland exit. They're leaving two men behind to guard the way out."

"Only two?" Hawke's luck must be improving. Then she realized Fenris had actually understood the Qunari. "Wait, you can understand them? How many languages do you speak anyway?"

"Five." He said it as if every former slave was multilingual.

"Five? You couldn't read, but you speak five languages?"

He gave her hand what felt like a frustrated squeeze and he whispered to her with annoyance clear in his voice, "Are you really asking me these questions right now?"

"Right, sorry. We can take two of them. Let's go." And she tried to pull him forward.

He pulled her back. "Two of them to get out of the caves. At which point, we find ourselves deep in Qunari territory, with only your magic and my lyrium and no way back to the ship. And do I have to remind you that you killed their Arishok? Do you think they'll just let us wander on back to Minrathous?"

He was looking at her like she was insane and like he was surprised at his own insanity for following her. Which she knew he would, and he knew it too. She smiled at him. She couldn't help it. She'd never had so much fun in her life. "Well, why not?"

xxxx

Marian dragged him along, one of her hands was joined with his, and the other wielded her magic. She brushed her fingertips along the stone of the wall as they ran forward and he felt a rumble start to form and then grow. He wasn't sure if it was the stone around him or his heart inside him that was vibrating with her touch. They came to the end of the passage and into the open air of the cavern's other entrance. The two Qunari poised with spears at the cave opening were turned away from them towards the daylight outside. Marian stopped and he stopped behind her.

Of course she wouldn't bother with trying to attack them using the element of surprise. She stomped one foot and the rumbling he felt reached a quick crescendo as rocks actually broke loose and lifted up from the ground on either side of them and just hung there. The Qunari turned and readied their spears. Marian lifted her free hand and made a simple sweeping motion as if to brush off a bit of dust and the rocks launched forward knocking down both warriors. With another little twist of her fingers, great claws of stone rose up underneath the now supine figures and closed around their struggling bodies, pulling them under the ground.

Marian giggled. She actually giggled and bolted towards the light outside pulling Fenris with her. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to accommodate the brightness. Marian shielded her eyes too with the hand still holding onto his. He felt the sweat on her heated brow. He looked around to get his bearings. They were on higher elevation, and the cave emptied out onto winding rocky paths carved into the cliffs lining the coast. He could see the water from where they stood, and not so far off, more importantly, he could just see the tops of Isabela's black sails in the distance.

Marian took in the surroundings as well. "This reminds me of the wounded coast near Kirkwall...only ten times fucking hotter! Maker, I've had enough of this heat!" She wiggled her hand out of his grasp. He was about to grab it back, when she pulled her tunic over her head and threw it angrily down on the ground. "Uhhhh. A little better I suppose." Then she grabbed his hand back herself.

She stood there wearing only her tight leather trousers and her breastband, staring at him and holding his hand.

It took a mighty effort to keep his face still and his mouth silent. Unbelievably, his first instinct had been to laugh, but he would not give her that satisfaction.

"Do you do this on purpose? So that the dwarf will have interesting stories to tell?" He opted for irritated sarcasm. "I would prefer not to be part of a story where we fight through hostile territory naked."

"How about a story where we run for our lives naked?" Marian's head turned to the cave and then back again to look down the cliffside paths. From both directions came the sounds of swords and inevitability.

xxxx

In the time it took for Hawke to blink, Fenris transformed from her lover back into a weapon. The Qunari emerging from the caves were on them almost immediately. Fenris released her hand for a fraction of a second. His whole body flared brightly and then he seemed to...vanish. She was transfixed. She still felt his presence, but all she saw was a ghost of an image were he should have been. She felt the ghost rush forward to meet the first warrior coming out into the daylight. She saw a spatter of blood and then the Qunari was on the ground. Before she could even move, Fenris was next to her again and her hand was back in his. In his other hand he held the sword of the felled warrior. She was pulled forward a little as he cut down the two Qunari that followed with a one handed sweep of the stolen blade. Before the next group was on them, he pivoted and she almost felt her feet leave the ground as he turned and ran with her down one of the paths leading away from the caves.

They flew headlong away from their pursuers. Hawke used whatever magic came to her fingertips without even thinking first. She covered them with protective enchantments, threw out force magic against any who got close enough to them and each time Fenris had to strike out at an enemy, she tried to pass a little of her magic into him through their joined hands.

They descended down the cliff paths and then up again, trying to keep to a general southerly direction along the coast; not that they thought they could run the whole way back to Imperium controlled territory. Neither of them had any idea where they were trying to run to, but they both knew it was better to run for it and live to fight another day together than surrender to the Qun. The attacks kept coming in fits and starts. There seemed an endless regenerating number of warriors to fight, all with spears and swords and angry foreign shouts and here and there bits of magic from the pathetic creatures that were the Saarebas. If she could have, Hawke would have stopped each time they encountered one of the Qunari mages just to put them out of their misery, but the Maker had other plans for her this day.

Fenris skidded to a halt and climbed up onto an outcropping of rock that connected to a different path above them. He reached down to help Hawke up, and then reclaimed her hand. This is almost getting funny, she thought, like a children's game or a drunken dare, 'how long can we keep holding hands?'

"Look." Fenris pointed, drawing her attention to the sea. "The dreadnoughts are fast approaching. Isabela is on the move."

Hawke saw the Dauntless moving south, skirting along the rocky shoreline. "She wouldn't leave us." Fenris gave her a subtle but dubious sideways glance. "She wouldn't, Fenris. Even if you don't trust her, trust me. She's trying to find a position further down the shore where we might be able to get back to her. I need to let her know we see her. Then maybe we can try to at least make our way down off these cliffs to a beach or something and they can send one of the ship's boats to pick us up."

"How are you going to..." Fenris started, but she was already doing it. Hawke called fire to her free hand and as it sat on her palm it turned and twisted and formed itself into the shape of a hawk. Fenris watched her as she threw up her hand and the bird flew off, red wings of flame flapping against a blue sky. Hawke's hawk circled the ship twice before diving down into the sea extinguishing itself and leaving behind a great billow of steam where it contacted the water.

Fenris just stared at her and she shrugged. Then without warning, he pulled her close grabbing the back of her neck with his other hand and he kissed her. It was hard and dire and delighted and she felt him smiling against her lips as he did it and just as abruptly as he started it, he ended it and dragged her back into a run.

xxxx

The further they went, the more resistance they encountered and Isabela threatened to pass them. The paths were narrowing and the cliffs were climbing and he couldn't let the ship get too far ahead.

Fenris led his half-naked Hawke down a thin ledge of rock evading another group of Qunari, and then climbing back up to the previous path thinking it would be clear. He froze and Marian ran into his back. They had come to a large encampment at the edge of the cliffs. He saw more than a dozen scattered soldiers and beyond them there was nothing but air. Almost immediately someone shouted the presence of interlopers and they were back to fighting.

The two of them moved in a graceful give-and-take, neither willing to disrupt the physical joining of their hands. Fenris sliced through a Sten that lunged at them from the side as Marian countered the attacks of a Saarebas. He couldn't see any way out of killing the entire unit that was set up here. They were surrounded, they couldn't backtrack down the path they came from and the only path ahead was straight down into the sea. All the while he stole glances at the black sails in the distance rapidly approaching their location.

A spear flew at Marian, and Fenris whipped her around out of the way. Fire shot out from her hand in a wide arc, but it was met by ice from one of the Qunari mages. Fenris saw Marian's face and her lips were curled up into sneer. He now knew the look well and it meant she would not be outdone. He felt her magic surge and fire rose up around them in a great wave. He felt the heat as her eyes targeted the Saarebas standing across the camp away from the edge of the cliff. The Qunari mage crouched, trying to draw out more magic. Fenris suddenly focused in on the scene before him, but he noticed it too late.

Far too late, he saw the black barrels sitting innocently enough behind Marian's target. He was too late to stop Marian's attack and everyone there was too late to find cover. Marian's fire enveloped the enemy mage and with him the blackpowder barrels. Fenris spun Marian into his arms, mageflame still licking at her hand. For the briefest moment the world around them was deafeningly silent and Fenris ran faster than he ever thought he was capable of. He clutched Marian as tightly as he could and the silence broke with an almighty boom that assaulted his ears. Just as the shockwave pushed against his back he reached the edge of the cliff and jumped.

They fell through the air down from an impossible height. Falling alongside them were burning bits of the Qun.

This time, when Fenris hit the water, it was with Marian in his arms. The shock of the sea made his muscles clench and his nose sting. He heard the muffled roar of the waves in his ears and the currents pushed up like a wedge between them. Their bodies were forced apart, but he used every bit of the power in his lyrium to hold desperately onto her hand.

He opened his eyes and saw her float for a moment beside him. Suspended in the water, a faint aura of magic still surrounding her, she was delicate and powerful all at once. She was a nymph and she was a leviathan in one body and when she opened her eyes and looked back at him, bubbles escaping from her smile, he thought he couldn't possibly love her more.


	26. Storm

Chapter 26

They shot up above the surface together, gasping simultaneously for air. Bits of burning debris were falling into the water from above. Fenris was still holding her hand so tightly, Hawke might have thought he was trying to break a bone. She looked all around and saw the Dauntless just ahead. They could make the swim. She waded closer to Fenris and let him hold her as she sent off another flaming hawk towards the ship, alerting them to their presence in the water.

Fenris looked at her with a curious expression. He should be furious with her. She should be furious with herself. Starting with the explosion that landed them in the sea and going back several steps before that, possibly all the way back to the moment they met, this was entirely her fault. But she wasn't upset in the slightest with herself or with her magic. She was just content to be alive and to be next to him. Something about the inscrutable look he gave her made her think he was also surprised about feeling the same way.

"Can you swim the distance?" He asked her as he tread water, still holding onto her.

"Of course I can, but you'll have to let go of me." Hawke kissed him on the forehead, pushed away from him and dove under the waves. They swam all out, side by side. As they approached the ship she heard shouts hurrying them on. When they were close enough, they stopped and a few of the crew were ready to throw them lines.

Hawke and Fenris were hauled back aboard. They were a sorry sight, soaking the deck. Hawke started removing her boots, and Fenris started stripping off his as well along with his breastplate and tunic.

"You could have joined me in doing that earlier you know?" She winked at him.

He stood and shook out his hair, the lyrium spiraling his chest glistened in the sunlight. Just as she pried off her boots he looked at her sitting on the deck and said low, menacing and through clenched teeth, "Woman, don't you dare take off anymore clothes."

"What makes you think Hawke has anything we all haven't seen already?" Isabela came up behind Fenris. "It's about time you two. I'll have you know, I almost left..." She walked right past them in a rush, shouting orders to her crew.

Fenris helped her up and they both followed Isabela to the helm. Varric was there. Hawke nodded to him. "Safe?" She asked him. She had to check on the slaves they rescued.

"Yes, Hawke, they're all safe below deck. Confused, but safe. When are you going to stop picking up strays?"

"I wouldn't have any friends otherwise Varric." She turned to Isabela. "What's the situation?"

"The situation, kitten, is that those two dreadnoughts are going to overtake us." Isabela manned the wheel of the ship and Hawke felt a welcome breeze as they cut through the water, picking up speed.

"What, that's it? Not 'maybe', not 'if', they just 'are'?" Worry started clawing inside Hawke's gut. "Surely you can outrun them, you've done it before."

"I've done no such thing, Hawke." Isabela wasn't looking at her. Her eyes were trained out to the sea, focused and unblinking. "What I have done before is lost Qunari pursuers in a storm and lost my own ship with it. So unless you have a hurricane stuffed in that breastband of yours, I suggest we start thinking about how we're going to escape once they capture us."

Hawke swore under her breath and started pacing. No no no no no. Capture was not an option she would consider. There were too many people on this ship. Too many lives to protect. There was no way they could fight off a boarding party being so outnumbered. There would be casualties and she refused to allow any more innocent blood to be spilt. And submitting to the Qun just wasn't an option...in any situation...ever. She swore and paced some more.

Fenris caught her arm as she passed him, stopping her. He leaned in close and Hawke could feel the lyrium on his bare skin singing to her. She almost though he was smiling. He whispered in her ear. "I love you for it, Marian, but you forget what you are..." He picked up her hand and ran her fingers across the markings on his arm. They flared and shimmered, seeming just as bright as the hot northern sun.

She was a mage. She was a very powerful mage.

Hawke grinned from ear to ear, grabbed Fenris's face and kissed him, and then she turned and ran to the stern.

Her friends shouted after her for an explanation, but Fenris answered for her. "Reef the sails, Isabela. She's going to bring you a storm."

xxxx

Fenris followed after Marian and joined her at the stern as she stared down the Qunari ships gaining on them. She stood straight and tall. Well, perhaps not so tall, but no less imposing.

"Have you done anything like this before?" Not that he didn't trust her, but he at least wanted to know just what kind of magic he had volunteered her for.

"There was a time...once, when I was young." She spoke out to the sea, softly, lost in a memory. "We were running from templars and they followed us into the Wilds. Father thought we could lose them in a storm. We didn't have any lyrium. He needed me and Bethany to help, but it worked. Carver didn't speak to us for a fortnight, and even after that, thunderstorms always made him twitchy. He hated our magic..." Fenris could sense her doubt and her hesitation.

He stepped up behind her and gave her the only reassurance he could. "Marian, I love you, and I love your magic. Now do this." It was an order. He refused to leave her any choice. Against his better judgement, against all his prejudice and against all the lessons of his past, he loved this woman, trusted her and accepted her magic, and he would make sure she accepted it too.

She looked back at him, surprise plain on her face; surprise and gratitude and without a word she turned back around to face the Qunari and did as she was bid.

xxxx

Hawke closed her eyes and opened her magic. She let it fill up all the spaces inside her. She felt it in her fingertips, in the strands of her hair, in her heart and in her bones. She saw in her mind what she was causing to happen around them. Clouds formed in the sky, bulging heavy and thick. They rolled across the expanse of blue, hiding the sunlight behind them. She lifted up one of her hands and felt the wind blow through her fingers as it swelled and quickly grew. Her skin felt chilled with the blessed absence of the sun and the cold air starting to whip about and it felt as if she was back in her far distant, long forgotten childhood home. She evened out her breaths and her chest rose and fell deeply. The fat clouds overhead burst and the rain started to fall.

Her magic pulsed and throbbed and she felt it spill out in great waves matching the sea that had grown rough and was now breaking against the hull, higher and higher. The tiny hairs on her skin raised up and she felt the static of electricity forming. Blue streaks of lightning snapped between the clouds and the ship tossed and pitched and she had to widen her stance and sway with the motion to stay standing. She tightened her muscles and focused her mind and concentrated. The storm was sudden and harsh and it raged, but she needed...more. She pulled deeper, opened wider. Darker sky, faster wind, sharper rain but there was a wall...a Veil...that she just couldn't push past. Couldn't or wouldn't...she didn't know.

Hawke clenched her jaw and shook her head, a pleading cry escaping her teeth. She could feel her magic falter as doubt creeped in on her, threatening to overtake her. Through the cacophony of the storm she heard a whisper. It was an evil little thing, whispering, begging, pleading and wanting to help her, but she knew better. Fear clamped down on her and she clamped down on her magic. She opened her eyes, searching, desperate, not wanting to lose the battle, but not wanting to lose herself. "I can't", she shouted into the wind.

"You can! Now do it!" Fenris shouted above the downpour and roughly grabbed her arm. He stood in front of her now, a blur of glowing lyrium and green eyes. He placed her hand on his chest and held it there. "Use me, Marian. You know how."

"What? You're mad! I can't. I won't!" She tried to pull away. How could he ask her this? She could never use him like that, like others had.

He held down her hand against him and pulled her closer. "You must. And it's alright." His other hand came up to her wet cheek; wet with rain and tears both. She looked in his eyes...and she trusted...and she let go.

Her eyes lifted up to the sky and she let his lyrium rush forward to meet her magic. Her whole being burned hot with it and she melted into him even as the cold rain drove down harder. Lightening hit the water and violently cracked around them. She could feel bits of it linger and it clung to their bodies, its blue light mingling with the light of Fenris's lyrium.

She couldn't feel the ship under her feet anymore; she couldn't feel anything but the electricity of her magic. This time when she heard the whisper in her ear it was Fenris's deep timbre, not a demon. "Finish it..."

xxxx

Had he spoken? He wasnt sure. All he was sure of was that if he died now, with this feeling of her magic coursing through him, he would die in bliss. It kept surging forward, and he was vaguely aware of the storm also continuing to surge. He saw streaks of lightning surround them and when he focused his eyes on Marian he would swear he saw the veins in her skin glowing white from inside her, lines matching his own.

Just as he thought this must be the limit, he felt something inside him break open, and he felt again what he had only felt once before, in the Fade with Marian. The Veil tore asunder and Fenris felt his magic pour forth and join hers.

xxxx

Hawke tore the Veil. It was deliberate and purposeful, and she was in control. She felt Fenris's magic meet hers and before their powers even joined she knew it was more than enough. She lifted her free hand to the heavens and the sky became a ceiling of lightning. She gathered it and let it strengthen and when she let it go, she knew they had won.

She looked out at the chaos of the storm they had made together. The two dreadnoughts were nearly on top of them. Hawke saw a giant bolt of their lightning, as if striking out of the Fade, split clean through one of the enemy vessels. It broke apart into harmless little pieces that were swallowed into the sea. And it was only right and complete when a massive wave rose up behind the other ship and drove it down into the depths as well.

When that last wave crashed, the water suddenly calmed. The torrent trickled to a stop. The wind silenced to stillness, and the clouds broke apart.

Hawke used the last of her effort and closed the Veil. Magic spent for the both of them, her legs buckled underneath her, and Fenris caught her as she fell.


	27. Need

Her weight in his arms was welcome, helping to fill the emptiness left behind as the magic receded. Clouds shifted in the sky revealing the dark orange of a sunset on the horizon. Victory shouts echoed against the masts of the ship. Fenris felt separated from it all. He didn't want to rejoin the world yet. Marian tried to push away from him and stand herself up, and suddenly he was possessed of a need. She shifted and squirmed a little, gently trying to extricate herself as he knelt on the deck holding her but a wild and mindless desire caught him and he refused to let her go. He felt the fading remnants of electricity tickling at his skin and he desperately needed to feel it spark again. He needed to feel full again. She tried to move around inside his embrace and her hands brushed against his lyrium. It was his undoing.

Fenris pinned Marian flat to the deck and kissed her. It was wet and ravenous and he was so hungry and she tasted so...right. She smelled so...good. She felt so...perfect.

"Fenris..." She half-heartedly struggled and spoke into his mouth. He pressed himself down on top of her and she gasped when she felt his hardness against her. "Fenris, love, what are you doing...?" He stifled her again with his lips, but again she fought free. "Maker, Fenris! Not here!"

Here? Where were they exactly? He couldn't recall. He looked up, eyes heavy and unfocused. He saw people standing around them, staring. The crew. They were still on the deck. "No...Not here." He repeated, his voice strained, and he jumped up pulling her with him. He heard Marian grunt when he threw her over his shoulder and nearly broke into a run to get below deck. They were both drenched, barefoot and half naked and he was obviously...affected. When had he become so brazen? So unashamed of his body and so proud to use it, that he would display himself like this and make so obvious his intentions?

He refused to meet the damned pirate's gaze as he hurried past. He heard Marian laugh softly, her breath hot against his back. Just as they descended below, he saw a flash of gold pass between Isabela and the dwarf who appeared next to her and he vowed to get back at them when he heard the pirate say,

"I told you they did kinky things with magic."

xxxx

Fenris kicked in the door of their cabin. He had to stop several times along the way to taste Marian's lips before stumbling further down the corridor. When they finally made it, he was holding her in front of him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck and she was licking and blowing on his ear. It sent shivers down his spine and he slammed the door shut behind them.

He staggered another few steps and when she bit down playfully on the sensitive tip he slammed her back against the wall. She let out a soft shocked cry and he just couldn't wait any longer. Buckles fell and ties tore and he fumbled just enough to gain access. He moved his hands to grab under her thighs and he lifted her on top of him. When he slid inside of her he could feel her magic again. He felt full, whole and for a moment he didn't move, just savoring the sweetness of being joined with her.

Marian's legs tightened around him. Her fingers dug into the muscles on his back making his lyrium hum and pulse. She nuzzled her lips against the angle of his jaw and she whined trying to get him to move his hips. He buried his nose into her hair, moving his mouth against it, still damp and tasting of salt and lightning.

"Fenris..." She whispered his name in his ear and the feel of her breath drew forth a growl from deep in his throat. His hands found the flesh of her behind and he drove her into the wall. She arched her back and gripped his shoulders, holding on. He was rough with her and his pace was punishing but she took it and grabbed a fist full of his hair and begged him for more.

He pulled himself away from her and they both clumsily peeled off the remainder of their clothes. When there was nothing left separating them but air, he tried to pick her up again, but her small and determined hands found his hips and she turned him so that now he was the one pushed against the wall. Her hands slid forward to encircle him and she disappeared from his line of sight. When she took him in her mouth he moaned louder than he intended, but then realized he didn't care who heard. He brought his fingers through her hair and he couldn't stop himself from pulling her head forward. It was her turn to moan and the sound vibrated around him. He was so close he could have spilled right then, but that's not what he wanted, what he needed.

She gasped for air when he grabbed her up and they fell down to the floor together. He sheathed himself inside her again. He needed to feel her come underneath him and all over him. Her fingers were tugging at his hair again as he bit down on her shoulder and then continued to bite all the way up her neck, allowing himself to surrender to the animal that he was. When he reached her pulse he sucked at it deeply and with a jolt she clenched around him as she came, bringing him with her.

xxxx

As the last of their convulsions died and their shudders quieted, Hawke rolled them both over so she straddled atop him. Fenris's chest heaved with exhaustion and his eyes still had that vaguely primitive, needy look.

"If that's what a little storm does to you, I'm going to need to make it rain every time, you know." She teased him as she traced the lines on his chest with her fingertips.

He stilled her hands and looked up at her. "Marian, I'm...I'm sorry. I...I don't know what happened. I lost control..." He stammered adorably, actually thinking he needed to apologize for that. His fingers gently brushed her shoulder, ghosting over a healthy looking bruise in the shape of a bite. "I can't believe...I shouldn't have..." She rolled her eyes. He was going to torment himself about this if she didn't stop it right then and there.

She leaned over and bit him on the shoulder.

"There." She said. "We're even." It was a very direct solution. He gave her half a grin, then looked up at the ceiling and sighed away his guilt. When he brought his eyes back down to her face he wore a serious expression.

"Marian, I want my magic back. I need it back. It's so...rrgghh...I feel so...empty..." He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his forehead, as if trying to remember something.

Hawke laid herself down on his chest and spoke into his skin. "I should be the one apologizing, Fenris. I'm sorry. I'm not sure I should have opened the Fade to use your magic like that. To let you feel it here, on this side of the Veil, only to have to close you off from it again." She reached up to grab his face and captured his green eyes with hers. "I promise you...I swear we'll find a way to restore everything that was taken from you. And we'll make them all pay dearly for it. Until then, I have enough magic for the both of us." She kissed him. Her magic was tired and dim but what was there she pushed forward into his lyrium.

She could feel him sink into her touch and he wrapped himself around her rolling them again, so he was on top. He separated from her kiss and leaned up on his elbows to look at her. When he spoke, her warrior was back and she felt his strength flow out from his markings. "Where do we go from here?"

She bit her lip, not really wanting to say it. This is going be a fight, she thought, there's no way this isn't going to be a fight. She winced and looked away, not wanting to see his reaction. "We go to Kirkwall."

He leapt off of her and she shivered from the loss of his heat against her skin. "You must be joking!" It was just of a level to be a shout. She scrambled off the floor and into the bed to wrap herself in the thin blanket that lay there.

"Oh, of course I would joke about that, because it's so funny." He gave her sarcasm a scathing look and he started to pace the small room. Hawke twisted her lips and bit her tongue, trying not to smile at the sight of Fenris angrily pacing, naked. She slumped her shoulders to try to explain and make her case. "Right before my interaction with Cassian degenerated into a brawl, he let it slip that Danarius was hiding in Kirkwall. He thought I was working with Danarius and that the two of us were plotting to eliminate him and Hadriana both. He accused me of tipping off the Qunari to the existence of their operation in the caves."

Fenris scoffed. "Hmph. It was clearly Crasta who brought the Qunari down on all of us. He wanted to kill everyone in one fell swoop."

"Crasta? But how could he have possibly known where we were? I didn't even know where we were. I still don't know where we are! How does that sick bastard know everything?"

Fenris sat down next to her on the bed. His nose was crinkled in disdain. "The answer to that is likely more extensive than either of us is comfortable knowing. He knew we dreamt of Seheron. For all we know he can enter our dreams at will, or read our minds through my lyrium, or your blood."

It was Hawke's turn to scoff. "Hmph. You can't read minds with magic. If you could, don't you think I would have helped you get your memories back by now? Don't give him any more credit than he's due. And he's not due any." She folded her arms across her chest and pouted.

"You yourself admitted to ignorance of what he could do with your blood."

He backed right into that one. She smiled at him. "Exactly! Which is why we have to go to Kirkwall, get rid of Danarius, get your magic back and then we can deal with Crasta."

Fenris stood up again and looked down at her while pointing a very scolding finger. "That is out of the question. You cannot leave Tevinter. It was a risk even coming to Seheron. Your one protection lies in staying within the safety of mage-controlled Imperial territory."

Hawke grabbed his hand and lowered his accusing finger. "No, Fenris, my protection is, as it has always been, myself. But I no longer have just myself. Now, I have you protecting me too. You of all people should know being under the thumb of the magisters is no protection." She could see his reluctant agreement and she knew she could pull forth his acceptance. "We follow this path, love. I know, I just know, at the end of it, both of us will be free."


	28. Acceptance

They arrived back in Minrathous in the dead of night. Isabela couldn't be convinced to make berth anywhere in Seheron with the Qunari so close. But, they needed supplies and though the Dauntless had made it through Hawke's storm, it was hardly up for an extended journey south. So, they limped back into port in the capital and Hawke and Fenris now led their strays back to the estate.

Other than issuing a few orders to the slaves they had acquired, Fenris had been largely silent on their walk from the docks. Hawke was amazed at how he managed to make exhaustion look angry. Their days on the ship after the storm had been less than pleasant for him, at least outside of their cabin. Isabela and Varric had been utterly merciless. Hawke could hardly fault them, and it was only some good natured teasing. The foolish man had nearly taken her right on the deck. What did he think was going to happen?

The worst of it had been when he found Varric's highly embellished and vividly illustrated accounting of the event being passed around among the crew for entertainment. It took Hawke and Isabela both to keep Fenris from throwing people overboard. At least after that, the crew stayed clear of him, even more so than they already had been. Hawke took it all in stride, but she couldn't keep from wondering if most of his silent brooding was actually him plotting revenge in his head. She secretly hoped he would find his silly vengeance against her roguish friends and that everyone would get it all out of their system before they had to embark again.

Before long they arrived at her appropriated mansion. Never so happy at the prospect of falling asleep in a luxurious bed, Hawke pushed open the doors and they filed inside. The lamps were all lit and as they were setting down their things, soft footsteps hurried into the hall. Orana emerged from a far corridor and she beamed at them, rushing over to help Hawke and Fenris.

"Welcome home mistress!"

Hawke corrected her. She had lost count of how many times she had corrected her already, but she would continue to do so if it took her last breath. "Hawke, Orana. You can call me Hawke." She gave Fenris a narrow eyed glare when she caught him rolling his eyes at her and huffing, not at all subtly. "Orana, do you think you can make these people welcome?" She gestured at the small group of slaves that they had brought with them from Seheron, all hanging their heads demurely. "They were previously in the service of Magister...ummm..." She searched her memory of the chaos that was their escape from the caves. "Fenris, did we ever actually get that woman's name?"

He shrugged noncommittally as he unpacked weapons.

"Mm. Yes, well, she's dead now anyway...so...they'll just be with us then, alright? You'll let them know we do things a bit differently here, dear, won't you?" Orana looked confused, but she nodded her head.

"There's a bath waiting for you upstairs Mistr-...Hawke." Orana corrected herself. Hawke was making progress.

"But how did you know we'd arrive back tonight? You haven't been doing this every night have you?" Hawke laughed a little thinking it was a joke, but Fenris shattered the notion.

"Of course she has, Marian." He grumbled as he started up the stairs to bed. Despite his current surly disposition, however, he did pause to say softly and sincerely, "Thank you, Orana", before he continued on.

Hawke also opted for a simple, "Thank you, Orana. That was kind of you and it is greatly appreciated." She moved to climb up the staircase after Fenris, but then she remembered and turned back. "Oh! I almost forgot. This is for you." She reached into her pocket and handed the elf the signet ring she had taken from Cassian's corpse. The girl accepted it wide eyed, mouth hanging open. Hawke just smiled and turned to follow Fenris. She shouted down over her shoulder, pointing at the ring. "He's dead too, by the way. Goodnight."

xxxx

Fenris wearily ascended the stairs to their bedchamber. The silence in the mansion was blissful. The solid ground beneath his feet and the lovely space around him was even more so. Many years a slave and many years on the run had not helped him prepare for the types of interaction with people he now found himself engaging in daily.

Being with Marian was different...easy, comfortable, and he was well aware that she did most of the work; either drawing him out or letting him be, which ever was called for. Dealing with others, without having the old lessons of either subservience or violence to fall back on, was exhausting.

He hung his head as he walked down the hall, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep with Marian's head on his chest so he could smell her hair. He felt her come up behind him idly brushing her fingers along his arm as she passed and approached the door to their rooms.

When she turned the knob and started to open it, he knew Crasta was there even before he looked up and actually saw him. Fenris nearly knocked Marian down when he shot forward, not thinking, towards the tall magister casually leaning near the balcony door. Without consideration of the consequences, and before the mage could react, Fenris deliberately and directly punched him in the face.

Crasta was knocked off balance and had to catch himself against the wall. Fenris's sharp eyes caught the fine spatter of blood that sprayed off the man's mouth and his sharp ears heard the puff of air that escaped the man's lungs. It's possible nothing had ever felt so satisfying. A twisted smile spread across his face and he just stood there, dumbly, happy to wait for the inevitable retribution. The memory of Marian's black eye, that had taken a week to heal completely, made this so worth it.

Marian cried out an aggravated curse in Trade and ran over, grabbing Fenris by the arms and pulling him behind her as she stood between the two men. Crasta slowly righted himself to his full height, touching at the small cut oozing blood at the angle of his mouth. The man's frigid blue eyes bore holes into Fenris and the look was accompanied by a smile and a low chuckle that brought bile up into Fenris's throat.

"Do you like it rough, little wolf?" He crooned, licking at the blood on his lips.

Fenris gritted his teeth. Marian seethed, and he felt her magic flex and move the air between them as she replied for him. "Why don't you play rough with a mage whose magic you haven't stolen, Loranus? That is if you ever stop hiding behind the vial of my blood."

Crasta erupted in full laughter. "Oh, so fierce, aren't you my little hawk! Well, worry not, I promise that both of you will get my equal attention when time permits." Fenris was sure that if he hadn't grabbed Marian and held her back, she would have jumped on Crasta and tried to claw his eyes out.

The magister turned and walked slowly over to their bed and sat on the edge, leaning back on his hands. Fenris thought he would have to ask Marian to burn the now tainted piece of furniture to cinders later.

"Fortunately for your very protective slave, little hawk, I am in a good mood this evening and am very pleased with both of you. I came here to praise you, my pets and look how I'm greeted." He said in a mockingly hurt voice. Fenris's stomach felt as if it wanted to turn inside out, remembering just what a vile thing a magister's pleasure was.

Marian's tense muscles just grew more taut and Fenris let her go when she approached the bed to question their uninvited guest. "What you do want, Loranus? Danarius isn't dead yet, but I'm certain you already know that."

"Yes, yes, all in good time. I have no doubt you will obey my orders without fault. Meanwhile, you've shown yourself to be the most brilliant entertainment we've had in an age. The Archon couldn't be more delighted that we've brought you into the fold."

Marian made a disgusted noise as she turned and sat down in a chair in front of the hearth and stared into the fire, deliberately not looking at Crasta. "I am not 'in the fold'." Then she looked back up at him. "Do not make the mistake of thinking that holding my blood means you own me."

"You mistake me, my dear." Infuriatingly, the man continued to converse with easy amusement. "I have a gift for you. You see, we have every expectation that you will make sure Danarius isn't long for this world. You're help in this matter won't go unrewarded. The Archon is prepared to offer you Imperial citizenship and a seat in the Magisterium."

Cold fear gripped Fenris. Marian's mouth dropped open and before she could speak, he heard himself interrupt, stepping forward quickly to address Crasta. The words he spoke sounded old and strange in his mouth and the taste of them made him nauseous. "Master please, may I speak with my Mistress alone? She is...foreign, I can explain your offer to her...in her own tongue." He was appropriately pleading and deferential, and he was sickened at how easily the manner came back to him. He ignored the voice of the free man inside him screaming in defiance. This was a means to an end. He had to get Marian alone before she reacted to this very dangerous turn of events. He had to make sure she understood the game they were being drawn into. He had to warn her, protect her. He looked over at her and he could tell she was mortified; shocked at the vision of him as a slave. Fenris wanted to punch the man a second time for forcing him to show her this side of him.

The magister paused, studying Fenris closely and finally responded. "Of course, little wolf, I'm happy to see you serve so well again. I will await you downstairs, but do not keep me waiting long. We have much to discuss." He leisurely rose from the bed and left them alone.

Marian scrambled across the room to slam the door shut. She was unsettled and her voice was a higher pitch than usual, laced with a touch of crazed urgency. "Fenris, what...what, by Andraste's holy ass, was that?"

He stepped over to her and held her tightly by the shoulders. "Marian, listen to me." She relaxed a little under his touch, clearly soothed by the command in his tone that came from the man she knew, not the slave from years better forgotten. "This man is a sadist. This is all a manipulation." His hands squeezed her tighter, pulled her closer. He didn't want to explain this to her. He didn't want to explain why he knew these things. His only consolation was that he knew she wouldn't ask him how he knew these things. "There is no torture without respite, Marian."

She looked up at him silent, her forehead etched deep with lines of concern. He let his words sink in, then continued. "There is no true surrender without first holding on to hope. The powerful master is one who knows that using relief as a tool can make suffering more acute." His words were choked now and he fought back anger at the dredged up memories.

Marian lifted her hand to his face to trace a line of lyrium from his chin, following its path down his neck. He felt her settle the turbulence of her magic that had been growing. When she spoke she was calm. "I am not so naive, Fenris. What he thinks he is accomplishing and what I will actually allow are two very different things."

Crasta was right. His little Hawke was fierce. Fenris laid out his concerns. "I have no doubt that he and the Archon know what transpired in Seheron. They are obviously impressed with you, which means they want to use you. If they appoint you a magister, and you kill Danarius, they will claim the victory for themselves. His supporters will fall in line behind the Archon. Because they hold your blood, they can continue to use you as a threat and they will have your guaranteed vote in the senate." He turned away, not wanting to look at her as he said the next part. "I can only imagine they are allowing me to stay with you because they plan to use me against you somehow if they need to. You've not hidden your affections. You should have."

She turned him around. She had a hugely inappropriate smile on her face. "I'm proud of my 'affections', Fenris, and they will regret it if they try to use them or you against me." She sat back down in front of the fire. "So, what do you advise?"

Fenris sat down opposite her. "You don't want to hear this, but you must accept and play along." She slumped further down into the chair and pouted as he knew she would. "Disregarding the fact that they are trying to make you their pawn, this position will make you a very powerful pawn at least. Additionally," He hated that he was about to admit she was right. He had hoped to argue his side on this point a bit more before inevitably agreeing with her. "if we must go to Kirkwall to take care of Danarius, the perceived favor of an Imperial Archon will offer you protection from the Chantry."

"Oh, that would go over just wonderfully! Are you proposing I sail into Kirkwall, flying Imperial colors and march through the city in magister robes waving a staff right up to Danarius's doorstep?"

"I am proposing no such nonsense. I am simply implying that the option is there should the need arise. We must choose one enemy to fight at a time, Marian. Current circumstances necessitate that we submit to Crasta for now. If we are confronted with any soldiers of your Chantry when we go to deal with Danarius, then we can use your position to our advantage." Fenris had spoken his piece. He knew she would have to decide on her own.

"You know, my father taught us your language when we were young, just in case." Marian's dark eyes searched the fire for answers. "I asked him once, before I knew better, why we always had to run; why we couldn't just go where mages weren't hunted and imprisoned. He said hunted was better than corrupted. He didn't want to raise his children here. He told us we were to come to Tevinter only as a last resort." She gave Fenris half of a sad smile. "Now look at me. I'm a slave-owning magister Fenris." She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, then back down to him. "But we do what we must, don't we? I already decided to follow this path to its end." Her eyes pleaded with him. He imagined a woman like Marian would have trouble asking. Without speaking, she sought out his permission, his support, his reassurance.

He gave it without hesitation. "If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side."

xxxx

"I accept." That was all Hawke could bear to say. Fenris had suggested she make a more elaborate statement of appreciation, but she just didn't have it in her. As it was, she hoped Crasta choked on her acceptance.

"Of course you do." The man was lounging in a chair by a fire next to a bottle of wine in a sitting room that Hawke didn't even know she had. One of the slaves had been sent to fetch them, to direct them to where the magister was waiting. He looked at her, still apparently waiting for something. Hawke shrugged her shoulders at him. "Well?" He said in response. "Aren't you going to thank me?"

"No." She replied curtly, but Fenris kicked her boot from where he stood behind her. "Thank you." She said, and she hoped he choked on that too.

"I'm very glad I allowed you to keep the little wolf, my dear. He seems to be advising you appropriately. He was very well-trained in the past. Despite his little outburst upstairs, I'm also glad to see that he remembers his manners. In fact, a bit of fighting spirit is what I prefer in my slaves anyway. Your sister for instance, little wolf, is quite the spirited girl..."

It was Hawke who choked on those words. Fenris put his hand on her back and she felt his lyrium burn, but she couldn't see his face.

Obviously getting the reaction he wanted, Crasta continued. "Do try to spare her, if you can, when you deal with Danarius. She is another investment, I would like to have returned to me."

Suddenly templars seemed like such an easy problem to deal with compared to these magisters. And the Qunari were practically old friends. Fenris was silently burning behind her. Crasta clearly expected her to take his bait. How could she not? Anything to help Fenris. And he knew it. He knew entirely too much for her comfort. Damn him.

"Investment?" Hawke bit. She had to.

He smiled at her, relaxing back in his chair, taking a slow sip of wine from the glass in his hand. "This bit of information is my gift to you, little wolf, for knowing your place and returning home as I always knew you would and for helping your new mistress to understand the order of things. You see, your sister knew her place as well and she also returned to it willingly. The freedom you won for her was no boon to one who will never be anything more than a slave. I was kind enough to take her in when she realized that, and she was so grateful for my generosity, she's been nothing but obedient and helpful ever since. Frankly, I just don't know what I would do without her."

Fenris's fingers dug and pushed into Hawke's back. She felt them tremble, but he still said nothing behind her. Hawke didn't even know where to start, but she reached at least one conclusion on her own. "You planted her with Danarius. To what end? To spy for you?"

Crasta laughed so heartily his head fell back. "'To what end?' End, dear Hawke? There is no end. The most enjoyable games have no end. Ah, but the little wolf looks like he has something he wishes to say? You may speak, Fenris."

"Won...?" Fenris's voice was dry and cracked and barely above a whisper. Hawke loathed that it appeared as if he had waited for permission to speak.

"Yes, it's a terrible shame you don't remember. I did beg Danarius to let you keep your memory, but he simply couldn't be convinced otherwise. Had you belonged to me, I wouldn't have needed that cheap trick to assure your total devotion." He slowly licked his lips and took another languid sip of wine. Hawke was dizzy with hatred and her ears were ringing with it, growing louder. She could barely hear him as he continued. "You won the honor of receiving those markings we gave you. To this day the proving arena hasn't seen such a glorious display. Your victory earned you not only our gift of the lyrium, but a single request that you foolishly wasted on your sister's freedom. Again, I tried to convince him otherwise, but Danarius allowed it. Thank the gods I was there to pick up the pieces of that folly."

Fenris's hand fell from her back. Hawke said the only thing she could think of as a response to Crasta's 'game'. "Get out." She almost didn't even hear herself speak the words over the rage ringing in her ears. "Get out." She repeated, harsher, sharper.

Crasta slowly set his glass down and rose from his chair. His pale eyes never left Hawke's. "I shall send for you little hawk, after you've rested from your trip. There are several formalities you will need to address. I will trust that Fenris can help to educate you regarding them." As he walked past them, he lifted his hand and raised it to try to brush Fenris's cheek. When Fenris didn't move to avoid it, Hawke's heart clenched inside her chest and she moved her own hand to grab Crasta's by the wrist before he made contact. She pushed him away from Fenris, who was just standing rigid, eyes fixed to the floor. Their bodies moved together a few steps then she threw down his hand and said again, "Get out!"

With a final lingering gaze and a smile, he was gone.


	29. Past

Fenris's world had narrowed down to the vague sensation of Marian close by and the sound of his own heartbeat, disturbingly even and slow. He wanted it to pound. He wanted there to be yelling and pain and chaos. But there was only this empty, silent, darkness that he knew too well. He remembered nothing of the things Crasta had revealed to him about his past. He closed his eyes and tried to pull back the veil in his mind, but there was still just...nothing, and it was made so much more disturbing by the insertion of these second-hand accounts of his life. Were they truth? Were they lies? Which one was being used to manipulate him?

Lies he could accept. Lies were meaningless things with no more power over him than his forgotten past. But truth? If these things were true...

"Fenris..." Marian's voice sounded far away. "Fenris..." He didn't want to acknowledge her. The last thing he wanted to see was her face twisted in worry and the last thing he wanted to endure were words of comfort and pity. He finally opened his eyes and the sight that met them was thankfully a far cry from pity. She was a rock of stoicism and she held out to him the bottle of wine the magister had left on the table. She nodded her head slightly and he took it from her hand. Then she turned and sat down in the chair by the fire. She remained silent, but nodded her head again at the bottle he now held. Fenris looked at it, and then downed the whole thing. The wine was bitter on his tongue and warmed his chest going down, but it did nothing to soothe him.

If Marian felt any emotions regarding what they had been told, she did not reveal them when she spoke. "You can either accept the past and let it be or you can allow them to use it as a weapon against you."

Without meaning to, without thinking first and before he could even try to control it, Fenris erupted with anger. "The past?" He heard himself shout at the only person he didn't want to be shouting at, but he couldn't stop himself. "I have no past! I have nothing! I have blank spaces in my head that are now filled with the evil whispers of a man whose participation in torturing me comprises some of the only vivid memories I still own!" His lyrium was flaring and he let it, the burn of it matching his mood and fueling these emotions he couldn't even name.

Marian just sat there and took it, but when he finished she spoke again, this time letting a bit of her own emotions slip and the hurt in her voice only added to his pain. "You have me, Fenris and you have family, which is more than some."

Fenris winced, but he was still too disgusted to let his rant die. "I have no such thing as 'family', Marian! What I apparently have is a woman who would willingly aid those who seek to own me!" He paced the room like a caged animal, which was exactly how he felt. "And to think...and to know...that at some point I cared enough about her to allow...this..." He extended his arms and the lyrium in them surged. "...to happen to me. Indeed, fought so that I could beg them to do this to me, just so she could have freedom and then have it be for nothing? Nothing?! To have my sacrifice, that I don't even remember, squandered and then used to betray me? Let my dear sister have her magisters and their chains and may she rot!" Fenris hurled the now empty bottle he was still holding across the room and it shattered against the wall. He spit on the floor, trying to rid his mouth of the taste of this hate.

"You would believe everything that viper tells you?" Marian's words were balanced as if she was trying to combat his hysteria with logic. "We don't know if there is truth to anything the bastard says. We know only that your sister exists and that she has tried to help us, help you, in the Fade more than once. It was likely the only avenue available to her. Even if she is with Danarius when we get to him, we do not know the circumstances by which she found herself there. In fact, it is more than likely she was manipulated into her position just like us."

She rose from her chair and approached him slowly, not daring to touch him yet. "Why would she plead with me to take you away from these people? Why would she try to wake you when we were attacked on the ship? We know she wants to help you."

"I know nothing of the sort." Fear and resentment were overtaking him and he couldn't see past them. He didn't think his mind was even connected to his shouting anymore, but Marian continued to absorb his directionless anger.

"I know, Fenris." She took another step towards him.

"How? How could you possibly know?!"

"Because I had a brother." Her voice was still measured, enraging him even more. He looked up at her, meaning to offer another senseless and cruel retort, but he saw unshed tears in the corners of her dark eyes. The sight of it broke down the wall of his blind hate as quickly as it had formed.

He stood before her, mouth hanging open, as he swallowed back down the venom on his lips, not knowing how he could forgive himself if those tears fell because of his mindless rage. She continued talking. "I had a brother and he died in my arms. He was stupid and crude and scared of me and he loved me and would have done anything to protect me including following me into the deep roads. And I would have done anything...anything...to protect him; including begging a strange mage in the Fade to help him if I had been given that opportunity, like your sister was given."

Fenris stood silent, unable to respond. Marian closed her eyes and when she opened them again, the tears were gone. "My whole family is dead, Fenris." she closed the distance between them, still not touching him. "I can never know your pain, but I know your sister's. Trust me. Please. We can all help each other against our common enemy."

Suddenly he was so exhausted he couldn't remain standing. He did trust her. Of course he trusted her. He sank down to his knees on the floor, and she did the same. He held his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, breathing in and out trying to find focus again. He would not let anything poison the faith he had in Marian. When he looked up she was sitting before him patiently, with her hands folded in her lap. He wanted to speak, but he had no idea what to say.

"The words you're looking for are, 'Thank you'." She reached out and wove her fingers into his.

"Followed by, 'I love you'." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on his lips.

"And ending with, 'I'd be lost without you'." He let her wrap her arms around him and hold him.

He sighed into her embrace as he thought, all that and more.

xxxx

In the end, though Fenris did ask her to burn their bed, they were both too tired to tend a bonfire, so they simply retired to another bedroom. Hawke didn't sleep. She let Fenris curl himself around her and she stroked his hair until he eventually drifted into fitful unconsciousness. She tried to join him in the Fade but she couldn't find rest. She didn't want him to be alone there. She envisioned him re-living a thousand different horrible nightmares that made her skin crawl and her love ache and the worst of it was she was sure that what she conjured in her imagination wasn't half so horrible as reality.

When Fenris woke, just as dawn was breaking, it was with a start. Hawke let her arms fall from him and he rose from the bed. When he stood he rubbed the markings on the back of his neck and let out a slow breath. He turned back to her and at first looked disoriented. After a moment the disorientation passed and then he looked stricken. He opened his mouth, but she stopped him before he had a chance to speak.

"Absolutely not, Fenris. Do not apologize to me. We move forward. Together. And one day, when I yell at you simply because you're the one standing there, you'll remember this moment and you'll forgive me." She gave him a wink and a smile. His shoulders visibly relaxed and he hovered around what looked like a desire to say something.

"You know, those words I gave you last night are always an appropriate response, in any situation really." Hawke didn't mind having to help him along in these interactions.

Fenris returned to the bed and pushed her backwards, covering her with his body. His naked skin was warm against hers. His expression was serious, and he met her eyes as he nestled himself between her legs. He dropped his forehead to hers and said, "Thank you." When he slipped inside of her he stuttered out, "I love you." When he collapsed beside her, spent and sated, he squeezed her hand and whispered, "I'd be lost without you."

xxxx

After their dawn interlude they finally availed themselves of the bath Orana had prepared for them last night. He felt restored after washing away the salt of the sea and the filth of their interaction with Crasta. Marian was bright eyed and playful as if she chose, for the moment, to forget about the peril that threatened their every step. As he watched her and listened to her idle chatter he had a vision of something he had not considered before. He had never thought farther into the future than the next command from his master or evading the next group of hunters, but the scene that now entered his head was so clear he felt like he could touch it. He saw himself with Marian, with no enemies to fight, no monsters or magisters at their back and they were just living. He burned the image into his mind, swearing to himself with every oath he knew that he wouldn't rest, would do everything in his power to work towards that future.

"...and you're wearing the most adorable idiotic grin." He hadn't been listening to what she was saying but he heard that last part and immediately covered his face in a frown. She just laughed at him and said, "You're too late, I saw the puppy eyes."

"There are no puppy eyes."

"You don't have to tell me what you were thinking about. Just so you know, I saw them." She smiled and resumed dressing.

With regret, he remembered the next trial that awaited them. Marian gathered up her hair and pinned it atop her head. The elegant line of her neck and proud features needed no help, but her clothing would have to be...remedied.

"You will need new clothes." Though happy to change the subject from his look of longing at his hopes for their future, he wasn't eager to have this discussion with her. He knew she wouldn't submit to this without enough kicking and screaming to assure the Archon himself heard her protests.

"New clothes for what?" She asked innocently as she finished lacing her boots.

"They will expect me to have prepared you for your initiation, which will require you to look more like a magister and less like a mercenary. But before that, since you are not a member of any Circle, you must endure a Harrowing."

The hard lines of Marian's ire and disgust re-emerged on her face at his mention of the tasks ahead of her. "Why would an Imperial Circle of Magi require Harrowings? Surely they don't have templars there waiting to perform the rite of tranquility and slay any demons that might escape from the Fade? I imagine they just let demons wander free on a regular basis so they don't have to go through the trouble of summoning them when they are needed."

"I am not privy to the details, I simply know the basic process by which they will name you a magister. Whether you need it or not, you should bring your father's staff, and as I mentioned we must acquire you more suitable clothing."

She waved her hand dismissively. "We can just ask Varric to pick me up something. When do you think they will send for us?"

Fenris was confused. "Why would the dwarf buy you clothing?"

"He has good taste. I'm not ashamed to admit that I very much do not. He did it all the time for me in Kirkwall whenever I had to go somewhere that didn't involve getting bloody. Although I'm sure I don't want to know exactly how much of my money he was spending on the things he bought."

Apparently Marian's friends shared her strange juxtaposition of qualities that included dangerous and ridiculous. "He is a very odd dwarf."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "And you are a completely normal elf? And I'm a totally average human? We'd all be dead by now if that was the case." With another dismissive wave she proceeded downstairs, where said dwarf was actually waiting for them in the kitchen, helping himself to the food Orana was setting before him.

Marian joined him at the table. "I need clothes Varric. Fenris says I look like a Ferelden peasant." She gave Fenris a cheeky smile as she started eating.

Fenris sat next to her. "I said nothing of the sort. She simply needs more appropriate clothing. They are making her a magister."

Varric casually nodded his head. "Mmm. I heard."

"How could you have possibly heard already?" Marian asked through a mouth full of food.

"You know better than to ask that Hawke. Anyway, it's already done. I brought some things with me, Orana laid them out upstairs for you. I have some more on order, just in case."

Marian scoffed. "Just in case? Just in case what? Just in case I get soiled with the sacrificial blood of innocents when they initiate me into their club of corruption? So that I can change into something clean for the grand party afterwards?"

"Come on, Hawke. This is Tevinter. It'll be an orgy afterwards. Don't need clothes for that." Varric replied straight faced. Fenris coughed and sputtered, choking on the bite of food he had in his mouth. Marian laughed.

Fenris was about to scold her when one of the slaves rushed in bearing a letter. Fenris gestured to him and took the letter from the man. It bore the archon's seal. He opened it and read it. If the contents had been different he would have smiled to himself at his new ability to do so. As it was, however, there was nothing to smile about. "They're wasting no time to bring us further under their control. You've been summoned to the spire." He handed her the letter. She rose and tossed it on the fire in the hearth without even looking at it. Fenris did manage a smile at that.


	30. Chains

Fenris was starting to lose count of all the new things that troubled him since they departed the mansion. He was walking briskly behind Marian as they made their way through the busy streets to the spire where she would face her Harrowing. Varric accompanied them, looking eager and entertained. That was troubling item number one. Their situation was not to be taken lightly, yet these two had done nothing but exchange sarcastic barbs all morning.

Fenris tried to focus on the bustling citizens and the noises of commerce, but his eyes and his attention kept wandering back to Marian's figure in front of him. Varric's keen eye and good taste was evident in the items he had bought for her to wear. The fact that the dwarf was capable of such things was troubling item number two.

The crowds of people were automatically parting for her as she marched forward, poised and self-possessed. She wore rich fabrics all in black, fitting her form but with enough flowing around her to give an air of imposing action. She was adorned with expensive jewels and she carried her father's silverite staff that gleamed in the sunlight. She looked nothing like the Marian he knew, but he secretly admitted to himself that she looked magnificent. When next he had her moaning underneath him he just knew this image of her as a magister would work its way to the front of his mind. That twisted little fantasy was troubling item number three.

Item number four was strapped to his back. Marian had insisted he carry the Qunari greatsword she kept. She made off-hand excuses about its quality and the shame of it going to waste when Fenris was perfectly capable of using it, but he knew what her real motives were. Anyone in this part of the world who saw it would immediately know what it was and what it meant that they possessed it. Even though she couldn't wield it herself she was making sure they could still count the intimidation it would stir as an asset. Fenris wouldn't deny it was a fine weapon, but it made him uneasy thinking the damn thing probably still had some of her blood on it.

Marian abruptly stopped in the middle of the road. Fenris nearly ran into her back. Varric stopped as well, standing beside her. She pounded her staff on the ground with one hand, and then put the other on her hip. "Fenris," She spoke his name like she was addressing a stubborn child. "I'm not going another step forward until you cease trailing behind me like a slave!"

Troubling item number five. The woman simply could not be trusted to remain silent. Fenris stepped closer to her trying to assure their imminent argument would not be overheard by the random passerby. "Marian, we have had this conversation before. This is the safest way for us to behave in public. It is what people expect. It is what the magisters will expect. It will make them comfortable. Now that you must become one of them, trust me when I say we want them to be comfortable. Uncomfortable magisters will be quick to challenge you and we do not need any more enemies."

She stomped her foot on the ground. She actually stomped her foot. "Fenris, I don't give a flying nug's ass whether they are comfortable or not! I will not behave like one of them. They can 'challenge me' until the seas boil and the sky falls, I can take them."

Fenris closed his eyes and tried to remain calm. He also tried to resist the urge to shake her. "Must you fight every blessed battle? Opposing slavery, in the Imperium, Marian, is not a fight that you can win."

"Oh no..." Varric spoke under his breath and he took two steps away from the now obviously quarreling pair.

Fenris swore he heard Marian's ego bristle. "Not a fight I can win?" Varric took another step back.

"By all the gods woman, would you please stop arguing with me? I am supposed to be your slave. In fact, if you'll recall, that is exactly what I legally am. We shouldn't even be speaking like this in the middle of the street!"

Fenris saw her expression change and suddenly he was nervous. "We shouldn't even be speaking? Really? Then I suppose it will look just horrible to all these people when I do this..."

Before he could retreat, Marian jumped on him. Literally, jumped. Her staff fell to the ground. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and her legs were wrapped around his waist and she kissed him. Lips and tongues and teeth and little moans in broad daylight in a public thoroughfare. He tried to pry her off but she clung tighter and he cursed Varric and the damned clothes he had bought when a vision of his submissive-magister-fantasy-Marian passed through his thoughts and his body started to respond without permission. He was sure there was someone watching that would cause problems for them. There is always someone watching in Minrathous, and he could just hear the gossip that would surface about this little scene.

"Okay Hawke, you win, congratulations, now can we move on please? Bianca is blushing and it's not as becoming a color on her as you might think." Varric prodded Hawke with his crossbow and she released Fenris, smug satisfaction evident in her eyes, as she wiped her mouth slowly then picked up her staff and resumed walking. Fenris bit his tongue and fell into step right beside her.

xxxx

The Ferric Spire had to be the least elegant edifice Hawke had yet seen in the city. It had hard angles and dark stone with an iron skeleton showing through in places making the whole structure seem like an undead creature with exposed bones under rotting flesh.

Fenris had told her this spire housed the Circle to which both Crasta and Danarius belonged, as well as, he felt the need to mention, more than half of the mages who have ascended to the position of Archon. So, of course, because this would be the last place Hawke would ever want to be, this is where she had been summoned.

The three of them climbed the endless spiral staircases Hawke presumed typified every spire in Minrathous. The air inside smelled of sulfur and blood. As they rose higher, Hawke did her best to focus. Focus on Fenris, focus on the path they now shared and focus on their future together. This was merely one more obstacle to overcome in pursuit of that future. She gripped her father's staff...her staff...and the smooth surface was cool and reassuring in her hand.

Just when her legs were starting to ache, they came to a large open antechamber. Twisted shards of light shone through cut glass skylights onto the grey floor creating odd and uneven patterns. Crasta was waiting for them, flanked by four imperial templars. Hawke happily noted that he looked irritated.

"You are late little hawk." He spoke with enough bite in his tone to make Hawke's magic twitch. "I will advise you for the future that dallying with your slave in the streets is not behavior becoming a magister. Do not make me reconsider my generosity."

Of course Fenris would have to be right. He was always right about all the bad things. She chose to ignore the threat and steel her resolve. "Let's get this over with, shall we, Loranus. We don't want to keep the demons waiting."

He gestured to a giant set of black doors carved with an intricate relief of a dragon. "You will enter when the doors open. Your slave and your companion may wait here. It is likely they will need to...help you afterwards." He offered her another sick smile that Hawke added to the pile she stored away in her memory, waiting for the time when she would give them back with one of her own when she took his sick life. He walked towards her and slowed just as he passed brushing a long finger against her cheek. She let him, using the repulsive sensation it gave her as fuel for her determination to overcome whatever trial awaited behind those black doors. Fenris growled and flared and she saw Varric step subtly in front of him, attempting to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. Before he left the chamber, Crasta whispered in her ear and she wanted to claw it off her head when she felt his breath on it. "I'll see you soon, my dear."

The templars took positions around the room. Varric nodded at her and said "Have fun, Hawke." Fenris walked up to her and reached his hand around to grasp the back of her neck. He pulled her in and rested his forehead against hers. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. When the black doors opened he released her and she walked through them alone.

xxxx

Varric leaned casually against the wall. Fenris walked over and leaned next to him, but leaned tensely. He watched the black doors close behind Marian as she stepped through. There was nothing to do now but wait.

"How long is this going to take?" Varric questioned him, seeming more curious than impatient.

"Several hours at least. It has been known to take a day or more in extreme cases."

"Extreme cases?" The dwarf was definitely curious.

"The mages do not speak of the specifics, but ultimately it is a test. I imagine the variability in time to completion is proportional to the skill of the mage." Fenris actually had no idea what happened to those that were unsuccessful. He had heard in other parts of Thedas the mage was killed or made tranquil. His knowledge of these rituals here consisted only of what he overheard from Danarius and his compatriots which was precious little; not that he had ever cared to listen very closely on the rare occasions such things were discussed.

Varric removed Bianca from his back and leaned her next to them on the wall. "Sooooo...wanna bet?"

Fenris wasn't sure he had heard correctly. He looked at Varric suspiciously. "Bet?"

"Sure. It doesn't have to be an exact time. We can do an over-under. Say, before or after mid-day. Sound good?"

"Sound good?" He looked down at Varric, incredulous. "Are you asking me to bet on the success and well-being of the woman I obviously care about...greatly," the emphasis Fenris placed on that word somehow sounded like a threat, "and who you claim to call friend?"

"Is that a yes?"

"No!" Fenris exclaimed loud enough to make an echo in the large chamber. The templars shifted and looked over at him, flexing their hands on the hilts of their sheathed swords. Fenris narrowed his eyes and let his lyrium brighten just enough to burn. These Templars were kidding themselves if they thought he could be intimidated by them.

Varric sank down to sit on the floor. "Fine. But, just so you know, Hawke would have taken that bet."

xxxx

It was raining. The kind of hard, cold sheets of rain that soaked through boots and chilled bones. This could only be Fereldon. It only rained like this in Fereldon. Hawke looked down at where her feet should have been but they were hidden under ankle deep mud. There was only mud like this in Fereldon.

She had been standing in a dark room in a spire in Minrathous. She had been wearing offensively expensive clothes. A group of old men smelling of incense and lyrium surrounded her and then she was here, standing in the rain and mud, wearing threadbare homespun and smelling of peat.

How many times had her father taught her about her magic in a setting just like this? How many hours had she shared with him and her sister in these humble surroundings? She felt more comfortable here. Hawke kicked out one foot and a spray of water was flung out in front of her. She jumped and stomped in the mud making a halo of it around her legs. She smiled. Maybe Harrowings in Tevinter weren't so bad.

"You're more comfortable here, aren't you?" She spun her head towards the voice behind her. Her hair was plastered to her face and over her eyes, but through the drenched strands she saw the familiar form of her former lover. His blond hair was wet and dark. His honey colored eyes looked...soft, relaxed, like Hawke had never seen them look as long as she had known him. She took a wary step back.

"More comfortable in the Fade? Hardly." If this was a demon taking the form of Anders she needed to be cautious.

He just laughed. "You know that's not what I meant, love." He stepped forward and Hawke stepped back again. Anders stopped and she thought she saw a whisper of sadness pass his face. That look was more familiar to her than any smile. He spoke again. "You don't trust me."

"I trusted you once. Look where it got me." She spoke only the truth.

The lines of sadness on his face deepened. "I'm no demon, Marian."

"Don't call me that." She snapped. "You never called me that."

"He calls you that."

Fenris. "Yes, he does."

"I thought you hated your name? Even after your mother told me what it was you asked me not to use it."

"I don't hate it when he says it." She couldn't fathom why she was still talking. He could be a demon. But she and Anders had always had such easy conversations. This was just like traveling down a well worn road. She couldn't stop herself. "I like it when he says my name. He says it like it's water. Like it's air. Like it's...necessary." She could almost hear Fenris's deep voice in her ears speaking her name. She had to return to him as soon as possible. She took a step forward. "Where are the demons? I'd like to just get on with this and kill some demons."

Anders smiled. "It's good to know you haven't changed love, but there aren't going to be any demons here, only choices." He lifted his arm and the rain stopped as if he waved it away. "As I said before, it seems the elf taught you what I could not. You aren't so scared of your magic anymore. You finally seem more comfortable in your skin. It makes me happy to see it." He paused and his gaze lingered on her with what Hawke would swear was longing. His face then turned serious."But you're still not entirely free."

Hawke wished he was a demon that she could just kill. "You're the reason I'm not free! You stole my blood, Anders!"

"You would be no more free if they didn't have your blood."

"Then why did you do it?!" If she wasn't already drenched from head to toe, she might have felt the angry tears of betrayal fall from her eyes that she had shed one too many times for this man.

"Because how can you even know you're a slave if you never see the chains?" He reached down into the mud and lifted up a thick and heavy chain. When he pulled on it Hawke felt a tug. She reached up to her neck with horror and felt the cold metal wrapped around it.

He raised the links up to show them to her as he continued. "You're stronger than all of them, Hawke. You were stronger than me, stronger than your sister or your father. You can break this chain. All you have to do is accept who you are. He's helped you along already, of all people, a slave to these corrupt mages whose own magic was stolen from him. He's the one who showed you to accept what you are. Use your magic, Hawke. Use it out there; use it to help yourself and your elf. Use the power these Tevinters are giving you. Get your blood back, get his magic back, and teach him how to use it the way your father taught you. Use it to help others. Other slaves, other mages. Use it all, don't be frightened of it. Use it here in the Fade and break this chain!" He shook the thing in his hands.

Hawke felt paralyzed. "I...I can't use magic here...I can't control it...last time..." She closed her eyes and shook her head, remembering how she couldn't even rescue Fenris from his own nightmare without calling out every demon in the Fade.

"You can Hawke. You're strong, and he's helped to make you even stronger. He taught you what I could not, what your father could not. You will use your magic and break this chain and there aren't going to be any demons anymore on either side of the Veil that can challenge you."

Hawke looked into Anders' eyes as he pleaded with her. There was no vengeance there, no Justice, no demon, just Anders. Her words were soft when she spoke. "You really did love me, didn't you?" she asked but it wasn't really a question, it was an acknowledgement.

He smiled at her again. "I did. And you love him."

She smiled back. "I do."

He dropped the chain back down into the mud and walked over to her. He lifted his hand to her cheek. "I'm glad. Now, what are you waiting for?"

She reached up to touch his hand, but he was already gone. What was she waiting for? She bent to grab the chain up from the ground. She took it in both of her hands. She opened up her magic and pulled. With no effort at all, the chain was broken.

xxxx

Fenris folded his arms and raised one eyebrow at Varric who sat propped against the wall. "Do you and Marian often bet on outcomes that involve life and death?"

Varric shrugged. "I wouldn't say often..."

The black doors suddenly burst open. Fenris pulled the Qunari sword from his back and the templars also unsheathed their blades. A thick plume of smoke spilled out from the open doors and with it, Marian strode out, head high. Her eyes were serious but her lips were just barely lifted into a grin. She walked past the templars without so much as a nod and then walked over to Fenris and Varric calling out to them as she passed. "We're done here. Let's go." She waved her staff, beckoning them to follow.

Varric jumped up and grabbed Bianca, giving Fenris a somewhat smug and knowing glance. Fenris just stood there perplexed. It had been but minutes since she entered that room.

"Hours, huh?" Varric said as he turned to go after Marian. "You should have taken the bet, Elf."

Fenris wouldn't admit it to the dwarf, but he was right.


	31. Catharsis

Following the form of bureaucracies everywhere, Marian's appointment to the Magisterium involved nothing more mystical than signing documents and placing seals on parchment. After the phenomenally brief Harrowing, which she had yet to say anything about, they walked directly to Crasta's offices to finalize her new position. Having to see the Executor again in all his self-satisfied glory as they were drawn further into his web did nothing for Fenris but turn his attitude from mildly ill-tempered to positively morose. Marian on the other hand was more composed than he had ever seen her in an interaction with Crasta, or any interaction with anyone for that matter.

Fenris had warned her earlier that she would need to provide them with her line of descent. Ultimately, they had to allow her to use her mother's family crest since apparently her father's lineage could not be traced. When Crasta's secretary added 'House Amell' to the official register, Varric made a comment that since the Amell name was likely now stricken from the books in Kirkwall, at least it was being raised to prominence in Tevinter, even if it was on the back of a Hawke. Despite her current state of calm, Marian gave the dwarf a scathing sideways glance that made Fenris think her apparent patience with their situation had come to an end, but she said nothing and went back to signing her name away to the Imperium.

When the tedium of paperwork was completed, Crasta congratulated her and offered her a glass of an amber colored spirit to toast her 'welcome'. She didn't drink it, but she didn't stain the carpet with it either like she had the last time the man wanted to share a toast with her. She remained remarkably serene and silent which was so utterly uncharacteristic that Fenris almost wondered if this was the same woman that returned from the Harrowing who entered it. If it wasn't for the fact that he could feel the unique touch of her magic beside him, reaching out to his lyrium even without making physical contact, he would have accused her of being an imposter.

After a reminder of their orders to assassinate Danarius with all due haste now that Marian's status was official, they were dismissed. Before they could leave, however, Crasta managed to fondle Marian's cheek again, lingering more slowly this time. Fenris would have bitten the man's hand off and razed the spire to the ground, consequences be damned, if she hadn't stilled his lyrium with a soft touch on his arm. Crasta just leered when he saw her do it and moved his arm to try to touch Fenris. That would have induced the biting and razing all the same, but she quickly stepped between them and actually placed her hand on Crasta's chest. The older magister just looked curiously at her hand where it was perched over his robes. Fenris wondered at the strange, decidedly non-violent, reaction from her. Crasta looked as if he was about to say something when she removed her hand and walked away, leading Fenris by his arm and waving Varric forward with her staff.

When they were outside, walking back to the manor under the fading gray of an overcast evening sky, Varric was the first to cautiously offer comment.

"Um, Hawke, you're acting a little...creepy. It's been hours since you cursed or yelled or, you know, tried to kill something. I wouldn't normally consider that a bad thing, but honestly, 'calm silent Hawke' is actually scarier than 'normal Hawke'. Care to tell us what happened in that Harrowing?"

Marian was still holding onto Fenris, her arm hooked around his. Fenris saw her smile and she leaned her head on his shoulder. Of course he let her. He would have paraded around like this inside the halls of the senate in session before having that argument with her again. Especially when she was acting so oddly.

She didn't answer Varric right away. When they finally arrived back, Marian led them straight into the kitchen. She sat down on the floor in front of the hearth, placing her staff in front of her. She made no move to let go of Fenris, so he set aside his sword and allowed himself to be pulled down next to her. Varric settled into a chair and the two men continued to wait for her to speak.

"Fenris taught me something." She spoke to the flickering fire while moving herself closer to Fenris. He automatically opened his arm so that she could nestle against him. It surprised him that he didn't seem to mind these small acts of casual affection being witnessed by her friend. Although, when taken next to the fact that he was being casually affectionate with a magister, Varric seeing their display seemed much less an issue for concern.

Varric leaned forward, confusion obvious on his face. "The elf taught you how to be quiet and creepy in your Harrowing?"

Both of them shot a reproachful look at him. Marian answered. "Don't be ridiculous, Varric. He taught me something a while ago. It was in the Harrowing I was convinced to act on what he taught me."

Fenris was content to let her explain herself in her own time. Varric was apparently less patient. "He taught you something and then he had to convince you to listen to him? I suppose it would take trapping you in the Fade to convince you to follow someone else's advice."

Marian ignored the sarcasm. Fenris replied this time, holding her a little closer as he spoke. "Even if that made sense, Marian, I don't see what it is I could have taught you."

She pulled herself away from his arms and turned to kneel facing him. "You taught me not to fear my magic. Because you, of all people, who should hate me for it, accepted it. In the Harrowing, it was Anders who convinced me that I could use your lesson to our advantage."

Varric let out a surprised choke that he covered with a cough. Fenris just inclined his head forward indicating she should elaborate before he embarrassed himself by being overly possessive of her and jealous of a dead man.

"I can control my magic in the Fade now, Fenris. I think I always could, but the fear made me hesitate. I'm a mage and there is no reason for me to wish I  
wasn't anymore because my magic is going to help us. It's going to help you," she poked her finger at his chest, "and that's enough reason for me to be thankful for it."

Varric reclined back in his chair. Fenris had already known the dwarf was more astute than he revealed so the look of understanding he gave Marian came as no surprise. "Blondie tried to teach you that for years, Hawke. You just wouldn't listen."

Marian smiled in agreement. "That's what he said too. But it seems I only have ears for Fenris." She winked at him. "Anyway, these maleficarum don't have any weapons on either side of the Veil that we won't be able to handle, now that I'm not going to force myself to hold back." She leaned into Fenris to whisper privately in his ear. "And now that I have you."

Fenris gathered her back under his arm. Varric felt more sarcasm was in order. "So this was you 'holding back' all this time? Are you sure? Because there are a lot of dead people that would beg to differ."

Again, Marian moved passed the gibe. "We should leave as soon as Isabela says the Dauntless is ready to sail again. We're going to have to decide how best to get us into the city so that we have an advantage over Danarius."

"And over anyone who might be tempted to turn you in to the Chantry." Fenris felt the need to remind her that even if she chose to ignore her own safety he wasn't going to. "It's possible returning to Kirkwall officially as a magister of the Imperium might be more prudent than you think. I have no doubt Danarius will know we are coming for him regardless. It matters not, as he has nowhere else to run."

Seemingly back to her old self, Marian disagreed with him. "Waving the Imperial dragons around the Gallows wouldn't be my first choice for a dramatic homecoming if I can avoid it." She paused, as if not wanting to ask the question on her lips. "Varric, who is still in the city that doesn't want me dead?"

Varric looked up at the ceiling considering the question. When he let out a long "Hmmmmm..." Marian huffed. It was clearly not the confident response she was looking for to reassure her. He did manage to answer after a moment. "Aveline and Donnic of course are still there keeping things in some general semblance of order. You know they'll be good to lend a hand, and it'll be a useful one. Sebastian went back to Starkhaven, but I hear he's not far from winning back his throne. Not helpful now, but a good card to have up our sleeve for the future. Cullen is still there. When the circle collapsed, he and a few other templars stayed to help look after the mages who didn't want to join the rebellion. Mostly kids, needing to be looked after and grateful for it."

"You mean the Chantry was okay leaving them all there like that?" Marian asked.

"Of course not; cut them off faster than you can say 'apostate'. But Aveline has helped keep them safe so far and relatively untouched inside the Gallows and I've managed to keep them in lyrium. At least enough to stop them from hearing voices and drooling on themselves."

Both Fenris and Marian looked wide eyed at Varric, a little shocked by his admission. "Since when do you smuggle lyrium?" Marian said accusingly.

"Since when do you think I tell you everything about my business, Hawke?" Varric just smiled.

Marian frowned, but it wasn't at the smuggled lyrium. "He may have turned a blind eye when I fled the city, but I seriously doubt Cullen would help me now. Especially if he finds out about the company I keep these days." She gestured towards the door. Fenris assumed she meant Crasta and likely all the other faceless magisters she was now forced to share ranks with.

"Come on Hawke, you never gave him enough credit. It was Blondie he wanted to see locked up. Definitely not you." Fenris thought that sounded suspiciously like something he should be jealous about. He would have to remember to question Marian about that later. Varric continued the list. "There are more than a few people who still owe you favors, don't forget. And as for the rest, everyone is probably too wrapped up in their own shit, just like they used to be, to give you too much trouble as long as you don't make waves."

"Then we should expect trouble." Fenris said. Marian punched him in the arm.

But then she rubbed where she hit him and she curled back against him, staring at the wood snapping and hissing in the fire. "What about Merrill? Did Merrill stay in the city?"

Varric sat forward, eyes narrow. "Well, yes. She's still living in the alienage, and the place is better off for it. She's been looking after those people. Why would you ask about Daisy? You never wanted her help before."

Fenris needed to clarify. Marian had never spoken much about Merrill other than to say the woman was dangerous but she had tried to help her against her better judgment. Apparently it hadn't turned out well, but she offered no details. "Is she the Dalish blood mage?" He couldn't help a bit of disgust in his voice even if he'd never met the person.

Marian let out a slow breath. "Yes. Unfortunately, I think she's exactly the person who might be able to help us..."

xxxx

Varric had left them and though the moons were high in the sky, neither Hawke nor Fenris had made attempts at sleep. They were now in their bedroom, but maintained the same position on the floor, both of them studying the fire. Hawke was again gripped with uncertainty, but this time not about her own magic.

She thought long and hard about the possibility of asking Merrill for help. There was no one here in Minrathous she could get information from regarding the ritual that branded Fenris and she needed to know what they could do to make him whole again. Or if it was even possible, but Hawke refused to believe that it wasn't possible. She had felt his magic. She knew it was there and it was vast and raw and just waiting to be rescued from the mages abusing it and returned to its rightful owner. But cutting through the Fade in a blind and ignorant fury could hurt him, or worse. She wouldn't risk that for any reason so she needed to know more.

For all her reckless single-mindedness, Merrill had great knowledge of the arcane and Hawke knew she had studied the old magic of the magisters. There had to be something the woman would know that could aid them. But having to turn to her for help with blood magic was not something Hawke wanted to resort to. For the thousandth time she wished she was as smart as Bethany had been, thinking she would sacrifice all of her power for just a bit of knowledge if it would help free Fenris and his magic from their bonds.

She looked over at her lover where he sat leaning back on his hands. His chest was bare and the lines of his lyrium caught the firelight, shimmering white against the darkness in the room. He had been silent and unreadable since Marian had explained the need for Merrill's help. Varric knew she and Merrill had never seen eye to eye, but it didn't surprise him that Hawke would want to use any resource available to help the man she loved. Fenris's reaction is what troubled her. She was terrified she was testing the limits of what he was willing to accept. He had accepted her magic, accepted the danger she constantly dragged him into, he had even accepted her placement as a magister. Hawke worried her determination to seek the help of a blood mage would prove too much for him to accept.

As much as she wanted to just ask him what he was thinking, she would not. So she waited, drawing on the miraculously deepening reserves of patience she was still amazed that she now possessed. Only for him, she thought. She sat cross-legged on the floor, sharing the silence for a long time. She even though she might have drifted in and out of sleep a few times. She was about to suggest they settle into bed when he spoke.

"It was raining." Barely a whisper, deep and distant.

Something in his eyes as he continued to look into the fire made Hawke's chest ache. "Fenris?" She questioned hesitantly.

"The night I received my markings. Night, day, night again...I don't know exactly how long it took." He spoke in a forced and practiced monotone now, covering a pain that Hawke would sooner take into herself than force him to relive.

"Fenris, you don't have to..."

He stood, flexing his fists and rolling his neck. He stepped forward and leaned on the mantle, head hung down, still looking at the flames. "I know, Marian. But it's time I did. There might be something I remember than can help us and..." He paused and she said nothing, waiting. "You've done so much...sacrificed so much for me and still you sacrifice more. I've done nothing to help myself, done nothing to earn this...love..." He said the word as if the feel of it in his mouth was a foreign thing. "I would have you know everything, Marian. You deserve to know everything." His voice wavered, almost imperceptible, but Hawke heard. He paused again, regaining control.

He turned to her and crouched beside her. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her hair. He closed his eyes, his fingers still moving on her scalp. She reached out to mirror his action and he opened his eyes. "Fenris," she said with patience, with resolve and with love, "tell me."

xxxx

It seemed like another lifetime ago when he sat in a shabby room in an inn by the docks listening to a strange woman tell him her entire life story hoping it would get him to trust her, accept her...

Now he sat in a lavish mansion, finally reciprocating; telling the same woman everything about himself he knew, everything about himself he had been hiding. He laid bare every dark detail and every painful humiliation. He didn't hold back the truth of everything that had been done to him, and worse, everything he had done. She sat and listened.

Danarius, Crasta, Hadriana. Lyrium, pain, amnesia. Training, serving, escaping. Freedom, betrayal, murder and then escape and freedom again. Some parts surprised him at how easy they were to tell, others he barely choked out, fighting back angry tears. But he refused to hide those from her any longer as well, and still she sat and listened.

He finished with the moment he saw her in the moonlight, coming to his aid with a dagger and a smile. The moment he would have had his memories begin. The moment his freedom truly started. The moment his life had started.

He stood and turned his back to her, leaning over the fire once again, not wanting to see her face. If he saw pity there or disgust, he thought it might be less painful to tear his own heart from his chest.

When a small hand rested on his arm and then pulled him away from the fire, he allowed it, but he kept his eyes closed. He felt the cool hand move to his chest and he opened his eyes. She smiled, deadly beautiful, the same as when she first smiled at him that night in the moonlight. Her magic pushed against him where her hand rested and he felt it travel along the lines etched in his skin. She didn't speak because she didn't have to. Her magic was her reply. In her magic, wrapping him, filling him, he felt strength, understanding, acceptance and love. It didn't right past wrongs or erase old pain, but it made it possible to move forward and have a future. The only future he had ever considered, the only future he could ever want. A future with her.

When he lifted her to carry her to the bed, she finally did speak, whispering fragments of affection that they both knew were insufficient to describe what he meant to her, but she whispered them anyway. As for Fenris, his throat was raw, he had no more words to say and he had no magic to give back to her yet, so he showed her with his body instead just what she meant to him.


	32. Agreement

Fenris took a sip of the ale in front of him. He turned from the bar to look around. He was sitting in a tavern. It was not one he had ever seen before. It was busy and vibrant with people. Though he saw laughing faces and lips moving in conversation he heard not a sound, as if he were watching it all behind glass. He turned back and looked down into his drink.

Before he met Marian, the Fade, when he remembered being there, was a single nightmare in a single room occupied by a single tormenter. Since she entered his life he had been more places in the Fade than he knew existed and this place was an entirely new one. He looked around again. She wasn't here. He waited. If she slept as he was sleeping now, she would come soon. She always sought him out when she could, often pulling him into a dream of her making, which he was grateful for because the only thing he had known of the Fade was an old nightmare.

He smiled when he heard footsteps behind him, but the smile left his face when he realized they were too heavy and spaced too far apart. He rose from his stool and turned, his hands balling into fists unconsciously. A broad human approached him, at first not acknowledging Fenris. The man had light colored hair with similar colored eyes and rough stubble on his face. He took a stool next to the one Fenris had been occupying and leaned forward, folding his hands on the bar.

"You're not what I expected." The man addressed Fenris, but didn't look up from his hands. His voice was a soft tenor and he spoke with an accent similar to Marian's. The only person other than her who had ever spoken to him in the Fade was Danarius. Fenris was immediately wary but despite this, he looked more closely at the human. He had seen him before, but couldn't recall where or when. Had he seen him in the Fade? He felt a trace of magic around the man, like a candle that had burned down, the flame gone out.

The man turned his head to look at Fenris. "But I can see why she loves you."

Then he knew. "You are the Abomination?" Anders winced at that but said nothing. Fenris looked down his nose at the human, his deeper baritone revealing not a small amount of contempt that he would only admit to himself was born of moral superiority and not jealousy. Fenris stepped closer to him threateningly. "What do you want?"

Anders seemed nonplussed and he tilted his head looking curiously at Fenris. "You really don't have the temperament for a slave."

Fenris twisted his lip into something between scorn and disgust. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

The once-mage laughed. "It's neither really, just an observation." He extended his hand to the vacant stool beside him. "Are you going to join me or not?"

Fenris just narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?" He asked again.

"Oh for Maker's sake, I just want to talk. About Hawke. Is that so hard?"

Reluctantly, Fenris sat. The man was already dead. He couldn't hurt Marian anymore from here. At least he didn't think so. If he could, Fenris would just have to kill him again. "I can't imagine what Marian saw in you. You were an idiot to abandon her for your pointless rebellion."

"And you were fast enough to replace me." The two men stared at each other, eye to eye for a moment. Anders looked away first. "Perhaps you're right, but at the time, I felt it necessary to serve justice before serving my love for her."

"I love her. You betrayed her." Fenris wasn't sure if it was more bizarre that he was talking with a dead man in the Fade or that he hated him as if he was alive.

Anders closed his eyes and hung his head. "It is done, leave it be."

"Then talk, mage, if you have something useful to say." Fenris would rather lie awake all night than have to continue sitting here with him.

Anders turned to face him again. "When you go to Kirkwall, you have to protect her."

It was becoming difficult for Fenris to stay his hand and not respond to this man's impertinence with violence. He bit out a retort. "What makes you think I need to be reminded of that? No less, from the man who would have seen her hunted like an animal?"

The temper in Anders also seemed to be rising and his voice along with it. "She knows now why I did the things I did."

Fenris pushed away from his stool again and stood practically nose to nose with Anders who had also risen defensively. "I don't give a damn about your reasons, mage. I only care about Marian. If you have a point, get to it, otherwise leave us be."

Anders shook his head, took a deep breath and sat back down. He folded his hands calmly back down in front of him. "I'm sure you know by now she can defend against her enemies but what she needs is someone who can protect her from herself. The damn woman has no instinct for self-preservation. So when she jumps into the fire you are going to need to be the one to keep the flames off her."

"I will protect her with my dying breath mage, with or without your advice. You needed to say none of this to me."

Fenris turned and was about to walk away, when Anders stood again, temper swelling back to the surface along with a wave of emotions that Fenris could almost feel pricking at his skin. There was fear, regret, anger and longing as Anders shouted back, "Fine! Then maybe I just needed to say this: Be good to her. Break her heart and I will haunt your dreams until your dying day."

Fenris just stood for a moment with his back to the mage. Then he turned his head slowly to respond to the threat. "That is the first thing you've said that I respect, mage. I will hold you to it."

Anders visibly relaxed and nodded his head, a wistful smile creeping onto his face. Fenris turned away again and walked directly out of the tavern towards wakefulness. Nothing more was said between them. Nothing more needed to be.

xxxx

Fenris had been acting oddly towards her all morning. They didn't share a dream last night, which troubled Hawke a little. They had been sharing dreams more often than not since the evening he told her about his life before they met, at least what he remembered of it. As they traveled farther south, he was becoming increasingly more unsettled in the daylight hours but in the night Hawke thought he seemed more at ease. He didn't speak another word of anything he had revealed the day after his admissions or any day since, but she hoped the catharsis along with the knowledge of her continued unwavering acceptance and support, had been good for him.

The two of them wandered aimlessly in the open marketplace, where she, for once, was following a little behind Fenris as he led them through the stalls and narrow walking paths winding between the vast arrays of merchants. They were currently docked in Antiva City to resupply and so that Varric could question some contacts. He said he wanted to "get a feel" for the state of things before they sailed into the Marches. What things he was trying to feel for Hawke neither needed nor wanted to know but, she trusted whatever information he came back with would put them in good stead for her return to Kirkwall.

Hawke hurried after the armor clad and hooded figure of Fenris, having to double up her steps to meet his longer stride. She herself had a new set of armor that Fenris and Varric had acquired for her. They told her it was a commonplace, if painfully expensive, type typically used among the arcane warriors of the Imperium. It was light and made for easy movement which she appreciated as she trailed quickly behind the sinister looking elf in front of her who had an Arishok's greatsword slung across his back.

As she and Fenris did their part to purchase supplies, Hawke wondered what news Varric would have for them. She hadn't realized how isolated they had been in Tevinter from the goings-on in the rest of Thedas. She was amazed at how differently things appeared when information was filtered through the iron fist of Imperial propaganda and also how little the Magisters seemed to care about anything that didn't concern their personal acquisition of power.

If templars and mages were at war, they cared not, as long as it didn't threaten the Empire. If it did, Fenris explained, the Magisters wouldn't hesitate to close ranks and redirect their efforts into the obliteration of their enemies. Otherwise, they were content to let everyone else kill each other and then find a way in the aftermath to grab more power as they stepped over the rotting corpses littering the battlefields.

She was completing a transaction for the last of their purchases when she noticed Fenris staring darkly at her from where he leaned against the corner of the stall. His arms were crossed over his chest and she could see his furrowed brow underneath his hood. Definitely acting oddly. When she finished their business she had just taken hold of the package when he suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her aside into an empty alley.

She didn't have time to question because he immediately, and cryptically, said "I am...very different."

"You're what now?" Hawke seemed to have missed the start of this conversation. He had made a statement but his face seemed to be asking her a question.

"I am very different from him." He said impatiently, not exactly clarifying the situation for Hawke at all.

He actually sounded frustrated with her. She had no idea what was going on. "Different from..." she made a guess, "Varric? I should hope so. If I was with him, I'd have to be the one to sweep him off his feet. I'm taller. Awkward otherwise." She offered a grin with the joke. He clearly wasn't going to accept either.

"The Abomination." The word was more a snarl than actual speech.

"The...what?" She'd had enough mystery now if they were supposed to be talking about demons. "I have no idea what you mean Fenris." She spread her hands out to him in surrender.

He stepped away and leaned back against the wall of the alley, arms folded, perched on one foot, looking sullen. "I met the Abomination in the Fade while I slept last night. We are very different."

"Oh..." Pieces clicked into place in Hawke's head. Men. All the same. It was her turn to be impatient. "I suppose you are. Can we go back to the ship now?" This was not a conversation they needed to have at all, let alone in an alley in Antiva.

"Varric told me he reminded you of your father."

What? Wonderful. She wasn't sure if she should find this troubling or endearing. "You asked Varric about him? Was that necessary? You know I would hide nothing from you Fenris, you have but to ask. And, yes, he reminded me of my father. Why is that important? Both of them are long dead." And Hawke had laid them both to rest in the past, which is where she wished them to stay. She was focused forward and her future moved along a new path, alongside Fenris here and now, not among the ghosts of the Fade.

Fenris looked down at the ground and rubbed his forehead with one hand. He looked as if he didn't want to be having this conversation either, but like a Mabari with a bone it was clear he wasn't going to give it up. Stubborn men. Always needing to know they're bigger, she thought to herself as she watched him grow more and more agitated where he stood.

When he lifted his head he looked frustrated and he started to ask "Why..."

But Hawke held out her hand and interrupted him. "Stop." He stopped and looked at her quizzically. "Stop immediately. Don't even ask me that question, Fenris. You know why." She mulled for just a moment, thinking how best to explain, but the answer was obvious. "This is why..."

She dropped her packages and swiftly moved over to him, inserting herself between his legs and wrapping her arms around his waist. She kissed him long and deep and she let his taste of lyrium tease the magic from her lips. His response was like a reflex and he pulled her in closer. When they separated, breathless, she hovered at his mouth, eyes open, locked with his. She paused, silent and let him feel it; feel the pulse, the energy between them and she let herself feel it too. It aroused every inch of her body and soul. It spoke to her magic and it was different, very different, than anyone dead or alive had ever made her feel before. When she saw in his eyes that he felt it too and understood, she released him.

"Yes, Fenris. You are very different. That's why."

xxxx

They ran into Varric on their way back to the ship. Fenris knew him well enough by now to know that he was hiding a thin vein of worry behind the imperturbable sardonic smirk he usually wore.

Marian showed how eager she was to find out what he knew when she questioned him immediately. "Well? What's the bad news?"

"Huh. If you can read me like that, remind me to stop playing cards with you." Varric just waved them on towards the docks, his tone now serious. "The street is no place to discuss business in Antiva. Too many crows flying around."

So they walked back in silence to the Dauntless. When the four of them were around Isabela's large table in her cabin, he finally spoke.

"There's no word from Aveline, which means one of two things. Either she never got my message that we were on our way, or she didn't think it was safe enough to respond."

"Oh, come on Varric. Aveline was never one to humor the 'cloak-and-dagger' approach. She might just be ignoring you." Marian would have sounded confident to anyone but Fenris who heard the almost unhearable waver in her voice.

"Not this time, Hawke. She was the one who asked me before I left Kirkwall to send her word about you. She wanted to know you were safe. Now, I'm doubting that she's safe, or anyone there for that matter. There's more."

"There is always more." Fenris mumbled. Marian shot him a vexed glare at his obvious pessimism.

Varric, unfortunately, sounded just as pessimistic. "It looks like the Chantry is back in the city. An Orlesian ship. Templars...Seekers."

"I thought you said the Chantry abandoned the place? Shouldn't they be busy fighting an insurrection? Why would they spare any of the few loyal soldiers they have left to occupy Kirkwall? As far as they're concerned the place should be a lost cause. There isn't even an actual physical Chantry there to salvage." Marian was trying to apply logic to a situation that was illogical from the start. But Fenris admired her stalwart attempts to see the world as a reasonable place. Or at least a place that she could fix and make reasonable.

"I don't know any more than that Hawke. Information has been hard to come by lately. If I had a line on people's motivations, I'd be the richest bastard there ever was." Varric sat back, letting Marian think on what little information they had.

Eventually Marian declared, "Fine. So we just slip in, kill Danarius quietly and then slip out. Chantry none the wiser." Even Fenris looked at her like she had grown another head.

Isabela laughed outright. "Oh kitten! I've never seen you do anything quietly."

"Well Rivaini, actually Hawke has a point. Marginally. But it's there. We can at least dock the ship with a low profile. I'll send out some feelers once we're there and get the lay of the land before we finalize any grand assassination plans. We slip in quietly and then if it looks safe we can make some noise."

Fenris found himself in agreement with the dwarf but saw a flaw. "How are we going to dock without drawing notice? The Dauntless does not fly a flag and Marian refuses to fly an Imperial one." He couldn't help but give her an irritated glance. "A ship with no allegiance is suspicious anywhere. I can only imagine you've been paying people off to avoid search and seizure up to this point, but paying someone off in Kirkwall, circumstances as they are, can't be trusted to go unnoticed."

Isabela was quick to respond. Too quick. And too pleased with herself about it by half. "No problem, Handsome. I'll just fly the Starkhaven banners."

They all just stared in minor confusion. Fenris would have easily let the obvious prompt pass without learning the details. Varric appeared to be waiting for Marian to take the bait, which of course she did. She raised an eyebrow and asked hesitantly. "Isabela, how exactly does a pirate ship come into possession of a royal banner from Starkhaven?"

Entirely too pleased with herself, Fenris thought. She replied, "I got it as a gift from Sebastian. In case I ever got into trouble, he said I could fly his colors." Fenris wasn't sure how exactly she had made that sound suggestive, but she did.

Marian pinched her eyes shut. "He was a priest, Isabela..."

"Not anymore, sweet thing. He had already decided to give up his vows and go back home. I just gave him a nice send off. And I'll have you know that minx was no innocent. No way a priest knows half of..."

"Enough, please." Marian shook her head and groaned. "Must you dip your greedy little fingers into every honey pot?"

"Oh come on! He was royalty Hawke. Royal honey. I never had royalty before." She smiled and licked her lips. Fenris rolled his eyes. "It was worth the wait, let me tell you."

Varric interjected. "Wait a minute Rivaini; I thought you claimed to have bedded the king and queen of Fereldon? At the same time." He gave her a skeptical look.

"Eh, that doesn't count. Those two weren't royalty yet when I had them. I wonder if it would be even better now that they are...?" Isabela trailed off, her focus gone from the task at hand.

Marian sighed. She knew they needed to decide how to proceed. "Fenris?" She only said his name, but he knew what she was asking. She wanted his opinion, his advice, his support. Strange things for a magister to be asking a slave. But in their hearts they were neither magister nor slave. He nodded his head and she nodded back.

Marian rose from the table, decision made between the two of them without having to speak words. "Run the Starkhaven colors then. If they let us dock safely in Kirkwall, I'll never question your conquests again, Isabela."


	33. Return

A ship, apparently from Starkhaven, with a manifest of 'Tevinter wine' sat in the docks in Kirkwall under a clear night sky. Two of its passengers sat hidden under hooded cloaks in a filthy back alley in Darktown. It was cold enough for Fenris to see his breath puff out from his mouth in a wispy cloud before disappearing. Marian peaked around ahead and behind, left and right, and then gestured for him to follow.

They made their way through the damp passages of the undercity attempting to avoid the notice of even the drunken beggars and derelict alley cats. Fortunately beggars and cats were all they had seen of the denizens of Kirkwall since the two of them slunk off the ship and into the city in the middle of the night. Varric managed to discover that the Chantry dogs were holed up in the Gallows, seemingly silent on all fronts, military, religious and political; but neither had anyone been seen to enter or exit the Gallows since their contingent arrived. Otherwise, things in Kirkwall seemed to be plodding along as any other city in Thedas according to the information Varric and Isabela had managed to scrounge up before letting Fenris and Marian off the ship to help gather allies. If Fenris was an optimist he would take this for a blessing from the Maker. But he wasn't an optimist and he didn't believe in the Maker.

Pessimism aside, he wasn't thinking at the moment about any potential obstacles they would encounter. As soon as they arrived and he breathed in the air here he knew Danarius was close. The hideously familiar darkness of his magic wafted on the wind making his lyrium burn and he could almost hear the hateful man whispering in his ear. All he could think about, all he wanted was to end it, end this hunt, end him, and end whatever remained of the power the man still had over him. He hadn't slept the previous night, not wanting to take the chance of seeing his former master in the Fade. He told himself it was so that the magister wouldn't learn any of their plans through his dreams, but he knew in his heart it was fear that kept him from sleep. Marian lay beside him in bed, her eyes closed, but he knew that she hadn't slept either, staying awake with him all night.

They wandered for a long enough time that Fenris found himself wondering if Marian even knew where she was going. Eventually they came to a dead end which only supported his suspicion. She walked up to an empty wall that was adjacent to a room tucked into a corner. It looked like it had once been a shop of some kind. Fenris looked around, pulling back his hood just slightly and squinting his eyes in the dark. Not a soul was about and the only sound was a slow echoing drip coming from the sewers. Marian had also emerged from under her hood and she ran her hand along the bare thin boards of wood as if she was searching for something. She moved up and down and finally her hand came to rest on what seemed like just another random bit of space. Fenris felt her magic rise and slowly a white rune grew bright underneath her fingers. Under the rune appeared a door that hadn't been there before. She brought up her other hand to dismiss the rune then she gingerly pulled the door open with a hiss and a billow of dust.

"This is a secret entrance to my old home. I concealed it when I fled the city. Besides Varric and me, the only other people that knew about this door were Carver and Anders. That was his clinic over there." She nodded at the obviously ransacked room next to them. At the mention of the dead mage, Fenris recalled the agreement they made in the Fade. He pulled his sword from his back, letting his lyrium flow in his skin. He took hold of Marian's arm and moved her aside.

"Stay behind me." He whispered to her. She nodded her head and obeyed. He felt her gather magic into her hands and he led her through the door.

The air inside was a little warmer. Their only light was the glow of the lyrium from under his cloak and armor. They moved along slowly through the cellars of the Amell estate. Dust shifted everywhere they stepped and cobwebs stuck to them as they passed. Eventually they came to a set of stairs with a door at the top. They climbed up and just as Fenris's foot touched the top step the door was flung open. He had just enough time to push Marian back and brace himself, sword brought up defensively, when a shield shoved against him with enough force to send him back down one step.

He recovered quickly and angled his weapon just as the shield pulled away and a longsword took its place crashing against his own blade that was too large to maneuver properly in the narrow space. He was able to twist out of the engagement and bring down the pommel of his sword onto the gauntleted wrist of his opponent who cried out in pain at the blow, dropping the longsword. He didn't hesitate to take the opening, reaching out and hooking his fingers in to grasp the top of the enemy's breastplate then using the force of his lyrium to push and send the armored figure flying backward into the room beyond the door, landing with a clamor.

He was about to leap forward and finish the job when Marian grabbed his arm from behind. "Wait! Fenris, wait!" This time he was the one to obey and he stayed his hand. She pulled herself up against him to look over his shoulder. The person in armor had jumped back up, brought up the shield and would have charged again if Marian hadn't spoken. "Aveline, stop! It's me! Hawke!"

Marian extended her hands out in surrender from behind Fenris and the other woman immediately froze. She lowered her shield just barely and hesitantly asked, "Hawke?" The woman narrowed her eyes, and then they went wide with realization. She tossed her shield aside and stepped forward. "What in the Maker's name are you doing here?"

Another armed and armored human interrupted the scene. The man was about to raise his sword when Aveline stopped him. "Donnic, no, it's Hawke."

The man's sword arm went slack. "Maker's breath..." He looked at Marian and offered an apologetic smile. "Welcome home?"

Still flush up against his back, her chin just clearing his shoulder, Fenris felt her shrug and he knew she had a smile on her face when she said simply, "Thanks."

xxxx

"Are you going to explain what's going on?" Aveline had brought them into the library. Donnic moved to build up the fire in the hearth. Fenris hovered in the doorway, not having spoken yet. Hawke could tell he was trying not to seem anxious and impatient.

"When Varric said the two of you were living here, I thought you'd be, you know, living here; not patrolling the grounds in full armor in the middle of the night like it was the Keep." Granted, she and Fenris had snuck in weapons-drawn, but with no word about Aveline's well-being they hadn't known what they would find here.

"Varric asked us to stay here and keep an eye on the place, so we were. He told us about the Darktown passage. We make rounds to check the entrances before we retire each night and I've been managing the City Guard from here as much as I can to discourage any potential looting or vandalism." Aveline was getting impatient too, but she was also concerned. It warmed Hawke's heart to see her again. Aveline's steadfast moral compass what just what she needed after so much time wading through the corruption and questionable ethics in Tevinter. She was the closest thing to family Hawke had left. "Now tell me. What are you doing back in Kirkwall, and who is this person I just tried to kill." She waved her hand at Fenris. He didn't respond, letting Hawke explain.

"It's a very long story Aveline. We're trying to make haste with our business here and get out of the city again as soon as possible so the short version will have to do." Hawke moved to Fenris where he still stood barely inside the room. She rested her fingers on his arm. "This is Fenris. I've been in Tevinter. We met in Minrathous. He knows everything. Everything."

To her credit, Aveline held in the questions Hawke knew were burning behind her frown. Donnic came up beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder. "We're here to kill a magister, a maleficar from the Imperium. His name is Danarius. We were hoping you might have information on him or help us deal with him, or both. We have reason to believe he is hiding here, possibly in Hightown in the mansion of a former associate of his." She paused and looked up at Fenris. He nodded his head at her to continue. She sighed. She'd have to tell her eventually. "We have our own reasons to kill this man but we're also fulfilling a contract...for the Archon."

Again to her credit, Aveline's face was expressionless and lacking in any of the judgment Hawke was bracing herself to receive. "So, you're an assassin now, Hawke?" She couldn't help but show the disappointment in her tone though.

"I'm a magister." A succinct, if inadequate, answer was all Hawke could defend herself with.

Aveline's mouth dropped open. "You aren't serious?"

Fenris stepped forward. "She is serious and there is too much to explain. This was ultimately not a path of her choosing. We waste time. The man we seek to kill is dangerous. The people who sent us to kill him are dangerous. The sooner we kill Danarius, the sooner we can deal with them as well and the sooner Marian will be safe."

Both Aveline and Donnic suddenly looked confused. Hawke rolled her eyes and hung her head just as Fenris rounded on her accusingly. "Do you tell no one your name?"

"Only you love, but you seem to be doing the job of telling everyone for me."

Aveline's eyebrows rose briefly at Hawke's use of the endearment with which she addressed Fenris but, she said nothing and moved right along with the business at hand. "Did you come with Varric and Isabela?"

Just like that Hawke felt at home again, made complete as it had never been before, by having Fenris at her side. Aveline still trusted her and would help. She sighed with relief and renewed resolve. "Yes, Varric tried to send word to you. It obviously never made it. Maker only knows who intercepted it. Much the same as the old days, I seem to have no shortage of enemies lately. Anyway, he and Isabela have gone to fetch Merrill along. We need her help too."

Donnic spoke up then. "You need Merrill's help?" Even he knew of the difficulties she and Hawke had in the past.

"The magister is using some arcane form of blood magic. It's of paramount importance that the spell dies with him but we need to proceed cautiously in that regard. The details are..." She looked at Fenris and he stiffened, face hard with concentration. He was actively trying to quiet his lyrium. "...complicated. We're hoping she has some knowledge of what we face that could help us."

Aveline's suspicion now showed plainly. "That is troublingly vague, Hawke and you know it." Her armor clicked and creaked as she moved to pace in front of Fenris. "You return without warning from Tevinter, of all places, a staff on your back and the title of magister on your lips alongside this elf who wears the sword that you nearly died upon and who smells more of magic than you do."

Fenris clenched his jaw and Hawke almost thought she heard his teeth grind together. She laughed nervously. "Are you saying I smell, Aveline?"

"I'm being serious." She scolded. "It's been a while since anything was brought to my attention, but several times in the past I've come across slavers or bounty hunters looking for an elf from Tevinter with lyrium tattooed into his skin. In fact, years ago I found the bodies of half a dozen dead hunters in the alienage, all gruesomely killed, with instructions for his bounty in their possession." She pointed at Fenris, who either couldn't hold back or didn't care to hold back the flare of his lyrium. "I would be no friend to you, Hawke, if I didn't ask him." She stood before Fenris and looked in his eyes. "Are you safe?"

Fenris's answer was low and he made no effort to hide the deep and threatening notes in his voice. "You can see what I am. You know the answer to that already." Hawke felt the power of his lyrium expand and her magic roiled inside her in response.

She inserted herself in front of Aveline, breaking her staring match with Fenris. Hawke put all of her faith and all of her confidence in her reply to the question. "He's safe to me, Aveline. Not so for our enemies. I don't consider that a problem, neither should you."

The word of her friend seemed to be enough for the ever vigilant guard captain. She tilted her head just slightly towards her husband. He nodded. Aveline turned back to Hawke. "Tell us what you need."

xxxx

Aveline seemed a sensible woman with a sensible husband. Once Fenris saw their support was behind Marian he didn't even mind that the brazen woman had questioned his 'safety' and with it, his loyalty. Frankly, he respected her for it. Fenris was profoundly grateful that Marian had at least two friends that were normal. Considering the next character in their twisted tale he was about to meet was a blood mage, he could use the reassurance of normalcy.

Just when Aveline gave up her interrogation and asked them what they would need from her, a loud pounding came in from the front door of the main hall. The human couple had their weapons in hand again and rushed past them, with Donnic hastily whispering "Stay here" to him and Marian. Fenris followed the order, but he drew his sword as well and stood just at the doorway, keeping Marian behind him. A few seconds later, he heard Aveline shout out to them. "It's Varric."

They both let out a breath and Marian rubbed his arm reassuringly before she moved to sit in a chair by the fire. She leaned back in it and tossed her leg over the arm in what seemed like a practiced and relaxed pose. This house was once hers after all. Fenris moved to stand next to her, leaning his greatsword against the mantle. He stretched his neck and briefly looked around the room before the rest of their group joined them. The library was well appointed and warm and he caught the faintest whiff of orchid in the air mingled with the scent of old books and brandy. Strangely the room reminded him of their library back home. Even more strange was that he now so easily considered a stolen mansion in Minrathous that he shared with his lover 'home'. He supposed it would be the same were it a village hovel in Fereldon or a seaside shack in Rivain, if Marian was there, it was home.

Varric entered first, followed by Donnic and Aveline. Isabela trailed, bringing up the rear with a petite dark haired elf, wearing the vallaslin of the Dalish, who paused and looked between Hawke and Fenris. The others found seats around the room with Donnic opting to stand in front of the fire as Fenris did, next to where his wife sat opposite Marian.

Varric made cursory introductions. "Daisy, Fenris. Fenris, Daisy. We brought her up to speed Hawke."

Marian rose from her chair to approach the woman. "Thank you for coming Merrill. You have no idea how grateful I am for your help in this."

Merrill just stood for a moment, and then gathered Marian into an embrace. Fenris heard her whisper in Marian's ear. "I've missed you Hawke, I owe you so much more than just this. I'm happy to help." Fenris was surprised when Marian brought her arms around the elf and returned the gesture.

When the two pulled away from each other, Marian resumed her position in the chair and Merrill approached Fenris. He could feel the magic on her. It was different from Marian's and different from the magic of the magisters; it was primal and it had its own song that pulled at him as if wanting to come into harmony with the song of his lyrium.

She reached out a hand to touch him. Immediately a growl clawed through his lips and he back away, the glow of the markings exceeding that of the firelight. Marian jumped up between them, but whether she was protecting him or her or both he couldn't tell. "The markings react to magic Merrill," she said quickly, then with a disarming grin she added "and I'm the jealous type so, no touching."

The other mage pulled back her hands and wrung them together nervously. "I'm so sorry...I understand. The lyrium, it's so...I've heard of this ritual, but I never thought I'd actually see..."

Fenris stepped forward again, as did Marian, urgency vibrating out from her, the feeling of her magic overshadowing that of the elf's. She grasped Merrill's arms, pulling her in to look her in the eyes. "You've heard of it? We need to know everything."

"Wait just a moment Hawke; it's time for you to start talking first. What is going on and what are we being dragged into?" A true warrior, Aveline wasn't going to go into this blindly. Fenris sympathized but let Marian speak, trusting her to reveal what she thought necessary and no more.

She sat back down in her chair and started. "Fenris was once Danarius's slave. He is also a mage but he's never had control of his magic. The ritual that branded him with the lyrium bound his magic inside the Fade and from there Danarius is able to use it for himself. We not only need to kill Danarius but to make sure the chain is broken and Fenris's magic is returned to him."

Aveline didn't seem shocked in the slightest, which made Fenris wonder what exactly she had come to expect from being drawn into Marian's life. She addressed Fenris this time. "So she's made your problems her own then? Typical."

He took that as rhetorical and didn't answer. Marian smirked. "That's similar to what Varric said to him when they first met as well. Anyway, it goes far past my penchant for involving myself in the business of others. Danarius is trying to overthrow the sitting Archon. By unfortunate happenstance, we're not just after him to help Fenris. The Archon's Executor managed to acquire my phylactery from and kill the Seekers that Varric and Isabela came to warn me about in the first place. That, combined with me not being able to keep to myself, led to a series of events that ended with me being in the pocket of that particular magister. At least for now. Once we check Danarius off our list, we're going after him next."

Aveline leaned forward, considering strategy. "This is terrible timing, Hawke. As usual, you have no luck to speak of. I assume you know the Chantry sent templars to lock down the Gallows again? No one's heard what's going on or what they are doing over there. Cullen hasn't sent word. Having the Chantry return like this after they all but abandoned the place is worrisome. They must be planning something. If we're going to move on this magister it might be best to leave you out of it entirely. You can hide on Isabela's ship and hopefully escape notice. I hope you know, things have been getting desperate between the templars and the mages since the rebellion started here. Don't think they've forgotten your role in all this. And to have lost Seekers in Tevinter along with the prize of your blood? They're going to hold you responsible for that too. They are a wounded animal that's going to bite us in the ass if we aren't careful. Let us deal with Danarius and then you must leave as quickly as possible again."

Fenris saw Marian bite her lip and wrinkle her nose, feeling the blow of Aveline's truth. She looked up at him and he couldn't help joining his opinion with Aveline's. "You know I am in agreement. Will you listen to her where you refuse to hear me? It is too dangerous for you here."

The wide-eyed Dalish spoke up. "Why isn't it dangerous for you too?" She looked directly at Fenris. "You're old master wants you. The templars want Hawke and someone else has her blood. It sounds like both of you are having your magic manipulated. You'll be stronger together. And we're all here to help."

Fenris and Aveline both grunted in disapproval at the same time. Hawke beamed at the other elf obviously happy someone else saw things her way. "You're absolutely right Merrill and that's the way it's going to be. Now what can you tell us about the ritual?"

Merrill smiled and sat cross-legged on the floor before the hearth as if she were about to weave bedtime tales to children around a campfire. "It's very old magic Hawke. There are stories, ancient stories, that the Elvhen arcane warriors of the Dales experimented with a ritual to combine the magic of two people. The mage that was branded would have great strength and abilities surpassing other warriors but would be unable to wield his own magic. However, this would render him free of the temptation of demons." The elf looked down, twisting the hem of her tunic in her fingers. She took a breath and then looked up again to continue. "The mage who performed the ritual would take on the magic of the other, controlling it, making his magic more powerful, but also making him more susceptible to the seduction of a demon. The two were supposed to fight as a unit. A perfect warrior and a perfect mage. If the warrior succumbed to an attack, the mage could act with greater effect than would normally be possible. And if the mage succumbed, then the warrior could act..."

She drifted off, the implication obvious, but Hawke finished her sentence anyway. "And stop the mage from becoming an abomination."

"By killing him." Fenris snarled. He could almost feel the heart of Danarius pulse in his hand as he squeezed the life out of it.

"My people abandoned the practice long before the Exalted Marches and I've never heard of it actually being performed. It's dangerous, powerful magic fueled by lyrium and blood. Without enough of either one, there is a risk the branded mage could become tranquil, his magic lost to him forever." Merrill shuddered at her own words.

Fenris was sickened. Only the magisters of Tevinter would have hubris enough to resurrect this dark magic. And who better to be their subject than a slave. Subjugated enough to control if successful, inconsequential enough to discard if made tranquil.

"And if Danarius dies, what happens to Fenris's magic?" Hawke asked hesitantly.

"His magic isn't damaged, Hawke. It just exists only in the Fade, held there and controlled by another. Their magic is bound together by blood. Sever the tie, eliminate the magic binding it and it will find its way back to him."

Aveline's doubt was obvious. "You speak of 'it' as if someone's magic is a living thing."

Merrill sat up on her knees turning to the red-haired human. "Oh, but it is Aveline! To a mage it's not just a living thing, it's life itself!"

Her words brought into focus once again the feeling of emptiness at his core. Fenris spoke up. "There were three mages. The blood of three mages fueled the ritual. Danarius, Hadriana, his apprentice, and Crasta, the Archon's executor. With enough lyrium to do this." He couldn't hide the bitterness in his voice as he held out his arms, white lines blazing from under his armor. "I've already killed one of them."

Merrill pursed her lips and looked at the floor. "Mm, well you'll need to kill the other two if you want to free your magic from the Fade. Eliminate the magic of all three and there won't be anything holding your magic captive there. But it must have been difficult to kill the one that you did. Was she able to use your magic against you? She must have been very strong."

"She was." Marian quickly recounted their battle with Hadriana. "She had a demon at her back and she tore the Veil. I used a spell to cut us off from the Fade and Fenris was able to kill her."

The elf on the floor stood before Marian and Fenris. "Let me help you both. You'll need it." She spoke with determination, clearly not wanting to be refused.

Fenris couldn't bring himself to accept the help of a blood mage, but he knew she was right. He looked down at Marian and she did what he could not. "Thank you Merrill. For your knowledge and for your aid. We will need it. But we do it the right way."

Merrill was serious when she replied. "I've changed Hawke. You helped with that. You are right to question, but you have nothing to fear from me any longer."

Marian studied her for a moment and then she smiled and nodded. It was enough for Fenris. He would trust the elf, because he trusted Marian.

xxxx

Hawke stood. "Varric?"

Her friend knew exactly what she was asking. "I've had eyes on the mansion since we arrived, Hawke. It's been silent as a grave. No time like the present."

Hawke took command. "We should have eyes on the Gallows to make sure there's no movement there."

Isabela volunteered. "I'll keep an eye on the templars for you Hawke. They won't see me and I'll be back in a flash to collect you if we have to get out fast."

"Aveline, we need the guard out of our hair. No offense, but do you really want your patrols catching you helping a fugitive apostate kill someone?" Hawke winked and smiled.

"I'll take care of that." Donnic raised his hand. Aveline looked up at him as if to protest but he stopped her. "You need to help Hawke. I'll pull the patrols, make some excuse. I'll go now, give you time." He leaned down to kiss his wife. She blushed dark red in the firelight. "Be safe." He said and then he left to do his part.

"Everyone else with us?" Hawke looked around at the rest of her companions. Everyone rose and nodded. They all walked out of the room, weapons in hand, ready to follow Hawke into another fight.

She and Fenris were left alone for a moment in the library of her old home. A fleeting wish for a different past crossed her mind; a past where they might have shared this home together, safe and content and free from hunters of any kind. But it was a past that didn't exist and one she didn't want. She wanted a future with Fenris, not a past. They had both been molded by their experiences before they met, creating the person each of them fell in love with. This home didn't exist for her anymore. The only home she wanted was anywhere with him.

He came up to her and brushed her cheek softly. A strangely delicate gesture when taken with the taut lines of his face and the bloodlust she could feel moving in his skin. When he spoke, it was as soft as his touch. "You know what I must do Marian. But I swear to keep you safe, no matter what."

She smiled. "Same as always love, you protect me and I'll protect you."


	34. Healer

Hawke's small army broke apart when they exited the Amell Estate, moving separately to their destinations. Donnic had already gone to clear them a path. Isabela was a shifting shadow, her steps a bare whisper on the the pavement stones and rooftops as she made her way to the Gallows. The rest each took a different route to the Hightown Estates. Aveline strode boldly and directly. An imposing figure in metal, wearing the crest of the city guard, no one would question her movements or her duty to serve and protect even in the dark of night. Varric and Merrill walked arm in arm, strolling at a leisurely pace, the dainty elf not very much taller. They could be any couple in love coming from a moonlight tryst with no other cause for suspicion. Hawke and Fenris were the last to depart, needing to escape notice even the short distance between her former home and Danarius's current one. Hoods pulled low, they darted between patches of darkness avoiding the light of the moons.

The further they went the more savage Fenris seemed to become. Savage fear, savage hate, savage anger, savage vengeance. It radiated from him, but unlike the heated burn of fury Hawke felt from him when he killed Hadriana this was cold and brittle. She could almost feel the icy sting pulling at her magic. She could almost feel his lyrium crawling on her own skin.

They finally arrived outside the mansion to find the others waiting. The five of them huddled in the shadows looking for any sign of movement. Fenris studied the stone and mortar of the place and Hawke was surprised it didn't crumble before his merciless gaze. Aveline was focused, waiting for an order, like the well trained soldier she was. Merrill looked sick, her face twisted into a distasteful scowl. She whispered to Hawke. "Do you feel the blood? And the suffering, the pain. Something here is...wrong. Such evil..." She shook her head and steeled her resolve, clutching her staff in her hands.

Bianca twitched in Varric's grasp and he calmed her with a soft pat. "How do you want to do this Hawke?" He asked.

Much as she wanted to barge through the front door with a blaze of magic, this wasn't her call. She turned to her elf, where he stood at her side. "Fenris?"

He didn't answer. While they waited, a cloud covered and then passed by the moons. When the bright beams of light emerged again she saw the corners of his full lips curl up into a terrifying smile. He yanked off his hood and let his cloak fall to the ground. He pulled his sword from his back and marched forward. When he was halfway across the square the rest of them just looked at each other and then scrambled after him. Hawke also tossed her cloak and drew her staff, her familiar daggers still hugging her hips. Without pause Fenris stepped straight up to the front door. Hawke couldn't help but smile herself. She was rubbing off on him. She formed a ball of fire in her hand and when he kicked down the door, she let her flames blaze around him as he barged in.

She shouted hasty orders to her friends as they hurried to follow. "Merrill and I will support Fenris. Varric, cover us. Aveline, guard our backs."

But her words were wasted. Fenris stopped abruptly in the middle of the large entry hall, lowering his heavy sword. Hawke frantically looked all around, her magic hovering in her hands and pulsing in her staff, but no attacks fell on them. Realization dawned all at once and Merrill's words from moments ago were suddenly made real.

The first thing she saw was the blood. She smelled the iron of it, could taste it in the air and she cried out and stumbled when she felt it slick under her boots. Everywhere. Fenris was silent. Aveline and Merrill gasped at the same time. Varric swore. Clotted dark blood covered the floor and was spattered on the walls. Then she saw the bodies. Lying in clumsy disarray where they fell. Elves, likely slaves; in the hall, on the stairs, draped over the banister. Merrill, driven by instinct to help her people anywhere they might be at all costs, moved swiftly among the dead hoping for even a thread of life she could tease forth back from the void, hoping she was wrong about their suffering, their pain.

Hawke approached Fenris with guarded steps. His lyrium throbbed with malice. "He knows we come for him" she said. "He thinks blood will protect him. Sacrifices. Demons. This reeks of fear."

"He should be afraid..." Fenris snarled out as he started tearing through the place. The rest of them just followed after him, still wary and ready for a fight, but none came. He broke down doors, upended furnishings, and shattered windows as he moved from room to room in the massive estate. More blood, more bodies and the dire stench of dark magic were all they found.

Varric picked several locks and Hawke broke through several runes so they could access every corner the magister could possibly hide, but ultimately they knew that someone who could do...this...wouldn't need to hide, just regroup and reposition to better bring forth his attack. When there was only one room left, Fenris shouldered the door and it gave away before him. Hawke was at his heel as he entered a spacious bedroom.

Streaks of blood, the smell of death and one last body met them. Even Merrill had given up hope of life. Hawke tilted her head to look at the crumpled form on the floor. She gasped with shock when she saw the strained and haggard rise and fall of a shallow breath come from the woman on the floor. A thin elf, red hair darkened with blood...

"No!" Hawke dropped her staff and her caution and tried to approach but Fenris held her back. "Fenris, it's her!" She struggled against the grip he had on her arm. He stood just staring, seething. "Merrill!" Hawke ordered, and the other mage rushed over to the barely alive, possibly dying elf. "It's his sister, help her, please!" Fenris lifted Hawke up and dragged her from the room. They were down the hall and nearly to the stairs when she managed to break free, but she knew it wasn't because she overpowered him. His hold on her wavered along with his anger.

He stopped and rested his hands weakly on her shoulders, breathing heavy, lyrium alight. "She is...What if...I have to protect you...protect us..." Unfinished words and incomplete fears paralyzed him.

"Fenris," She spoke firmly while she lifted her arms and held his face in her hands, her magic a warm caress on his cheeks. "I will not let you carry regret away from this moment. I'm going to help her." He closed his eyes and his hands fell from her shoulders. She shot past him back into the bedroom where Varania lay dying on the floor.

She felt Merrill's magic when she entered, like trees swaying in the wind, it was unpretentious and sang of nature. She was holding Varania in her lap trying to muster what healing she could, tears pooling in her wide eyes. "Hawke, I need help! I think she's a healer, she must have been trying to keep herself alive, but this..." Merrill's fingers wrapped around a collar fastened to the woman's neck. "What is this awful thing?"

Hawke fell to her knees on the floor taking control of the situation. She cradled the back of Varania's neck in her hand and leaned in to inspect the collar. "Fucking devious magister bastards..." She mumbled as she turned the thing around. "Varric, can you pick this?" There was a lock fastened to the thick leather of the device that was obviously holding back the magic of the woman wearing it. It was clearly a modification of what the Qunari use to subjugate their mages. Varric deftly picked the lock as Hawke closed her eyes feeling out the enchantment on it. The thing was no match for her and she easily overcame its ability to silence magic with one push of her power into it. Immediately the unconscious Varania seemed to draw some color back into her face. The lock clicked under Varric's ministrations and he pulled if off her neck, tossing it away.

With the collar gone they saw where blood continued to seep from an ear to ear gash on Varania's neck. Merrill clapped her hands over the wound, murmuring words in Elven, ancient incantations, desperately trying to help. Neither she nor Hawke were healers, but they would have to be enough. There was no way Hawke would let another sibling, even if it wasn't hers, die in her arms.

Hawke closed her eyes and placed her hands over Merrill's. She didn't concentrate, she didn't even think, she just let her magic move on its own. Merrill's words again rang true when Hawke felt the life that was her magic move into Fenris's sister. She refused to regret the chains she had placed on herself in the past and how if she had only accepted her magic and not feared it, she might have been able to stop death from claiming her own sister. None of that mattered now that the chains were broken as long as she could give Fenris back his family.

Hawke felt Merrill pull her hands away and she opened her eyes. "Hawke," Merrill said, mouth agape. "Your magic is different. Different than before. Look." She pointed down at Varania. The wound beneath Hawke's hands had closed. Cleanly, effortlessly healed. She would have never been able to heal such a grim wound before. That was always part of the reason she cared for Anders when they were together; she was in awe of the amazing ability he had to heal, when all she seemed capable of was destruction and death. But it seemed he was right after all; she was stronger than him, now that she'd given herself the chance to show it.

Merrill smiled. Somehow she knew exactly what inside Hawke had changed. "Well done, Ma'Falon. And it's about time, too."

A weak and choked breath came from the newly whole elf lying before them. Hawke and Merrill helped her sit up and she coughed and hacked the taste of blood and death from her lungs. Hawke looked up when she saw Fenris appear in the doorway, not making any move to enter the room. He looked at her, and then looked down to his sister. His fists were clenched, his jaw tense and his eyes cold, but his lyrium was quiet. Progress, Hawke thought.

When Varania recovered, and she opened her eyes Hawke was taken aback by the deep green color of them, so like Fenris, and the strength of will just behind the surface of them, also so like Fenris.

Hawke looked around to her friends and without a word they all acknowledged that it might be better for them not to be present for this particular family reunion. Varric helped Merrill up and led her from the room. Aveline said, "We'll sweep the place one more time Hawke" and then she exited past Fenris who was still hovering in the doorway.

Hawke smiled at her love, then looked down and smiled at his sister. Varania seemed to regain her senses and her eyes went wide as she focused on Hawke's face, not yet seeing her brother where he stood. "You...you're the woman from our dream! Is he safe! Where is he?" She tried to push herself off the floor, but collapsed back down into Hawke's arms. Fenris didn't move and didn't speak, but a slow deep breath escaped his flared nostrils. Varania turned her head at the sound and the relief that washed over her was palpable. Tears joined the streaks of blood on her face. Her eyes moved from Fenris back to Hawke. The amazement and gratitude Hawke saw on the woman's face nearly made her blush. Varania stuttered out a question, asking Hawke, "Who...who are you?"

Hawke looked up and without taking her eyes from Fenris she said, "I'm Marian."


	35. Tiger

"Where is he?" Fenris demanded harshly, having yet to move even an inch into the room. Marian was helping the other woman to a chair. He refused to own her as a sister yet. All she was to him right now was an impedance. It's possible all she had ever been to him was a liability and a weakness. He was only still standing here because of Marian. His eyes fell to the pool of blood on the floor where the woman who had been his sister in another life nearly died.

I would have let her die there. 

The thought came to him with cold indifference. He didn't know this woman and didn't trust her. This sister moved his frozen heart not at all. Seeing her alive in front of him was an affront, when so much of him was dead inside replaced by bitterness and hate. And knowing that she might have been and could still be complicit with those who had put that hatred inside of him was too much to forgive; too much even to just forget and set aside. He had forgotten too much already.

He continued to wait for an answer to his question. Danarius was still out there and he couldn't hide forever. Marian fussed and checked where Varania's near fatal wound had been as if she expected to still find it torn open and bleeding. The elf's thin fingers gingerly touched her newly healed skin. Healed by Marian because she wanted to help him by helping his sister; because she was kind and good and selfless and she loved him.

The ice inside him so easily melted only for her. Marian's actions here humbled him. All her actions since he had met her humbled him. He focused on her, not wanting to lose himself in the desolation of the past when he was so close to making those responsible for it pay. So close to being able to leave this path of death and dark magic and start down a new path to a better future with Marian.

He asked again, but this time there was less edge in his voice. "Where is he?"

His own eyes looked back at him, wide and green. "Brother..." Barely a whisper.

That word she dared to call him brought his already limited and fragile patience to an end. "Enough! Where?!"

Varania bit her lip, and then answered him. "The Gallows."

Marian cocked her head in disbelief. "He's...where?"

"It's the truth. He went to the Gallows." With effort Varania pushed herself forward in the chair. She seemed to have more to tell.

"Was he captured by the templars?" Marian's voice had gone nearly shrill, raised several tones at the very absurdity of the possibility, but the question had to be asked.

Varania laughed bitterly and Fenris saw Marian's mouth twitch as she suppressed a smile, obviously surprised by how much the siblings were alike in manner. Their similarities did nothing but irritate Fenris more. "Of course not, it was he who brought them here."

Marian's head fell back and she let out an exasperated grunt to the ceiling. She mumbled something Fenris couldn't make out but he would have sworn she was cursing in Tevene as she walked over to him. She unceremoniously grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the chair opposite Varania. She pushed him down into it. He tried to rise and protest. He wasn't sure why; likely just for the sake of protesting. She glared down at him obviously taking advantage of the tenderness she knew he felt for her. She was deliberately breaking down the wall of his angst. As if he had spoken those thoughts aloud she replied to them, her face stern, but her voice gentle. "Focus forward, love. We can deal with the past when we're all safe."

Then she looked to Varania and addressed her, this time with the tone to match her face. "He doesn't trust you. For reasons he doesn't understand, I do trust you." Marian spoke the rest with an intimidating edge. "You don't want to know what will happen to you if you betray him or my trust."

The women just stared at each other, considering the words that hung in the air. Varania looked directly into Marian's dark eyes and said, "Understood." Then, inexplicably to Fenris, she and Marian smiled at each other. The women seemed to have made an accord.

Marian perched on the arm of Fenris's chair. "Now, explain" she said crossing her arms. Fenris heard the clink of armor and looked to see Aveline leading the others back into the bedroom. Marian nodded her head at her friends. "Danarius is in the Gallows. We're about to hear the twisted scheming that led to that bit of intrigue." She rolled her eyes and turned back to Varania who spoke to Marian but never took her eyes from Fenris.

"He fled Seheron after he saw the two of you together in the Fade. I tried to tell him that he shouldn't be concerned. That Master Crasta would kill you." She pointed at Marian, "And then Le-" she paused, "...Fenris, would be alone again. Of course he didn't believe me. He had already decided to hasten his plans."

Disgusted, Fenris rose from the chair, ignoring the hand that Marian reached out to him and turned his back on Varania. " 'Master.' So you are their slave."

"I am." Varania replied defiantly. "It is the path I chose and I would do it again."

If Fenris had not had his back to her, he would have seen her eyes fall to the floor as she continued softly. "It was the only way for me to keep them off you after you escaped. They were both hunting you. I did what I could to keep them two steps behind and you two ahead. You sacrificed yourself for my freedom. I could do no less for you."

xxxx

Fenris was standing so rigidly Hawke thought he might crack if she even breathed in his direction. Now was not the time to comfort him; not in front of others, their prey so close, the kill so near.

They needed to know a lot more than this, so she pressed, extrapolating the details as she saw them. "You've been playing them off each other, haven't you? How? What can you have to offer them other than what any spy can do?"

"Fenris and I," Hawke noticed she seemed to have to concentrate to say his name. "We've shared dreams since we were children. They wanted to me to spy on him as much as each other. I misdirected them as much as I could." If someone could sound proud and defensive at the same time, Varania managed it. "I've never stopped trying to get you to hear me in the Fade." She addressed her brother. Fenris and his lyrium were both silent, his back still turned to her.

Hawke sighed and rubbed her forehead. She could only hope this would be easier for him when Danarius was dead. "Varania, what plans could possibly have Danarius sequestered with templars and seekers in the Gallows?"

"He's raising his own army. He plans to openly oppose the Archon. And he'll be able to do it now. Those Andrastians are going to give him every mage they still control outside of the Imperium."

Hawke now stood too, shock and rage filling her. "Does that mean he's been successful in recreating the branding ritual? On such a large scale? That's just not possible, it can't be possible." She was sick at the implications.

"I honestly don't know. He has never revealed to me anything of that magic. He no longer even trusted Hadriana with the details of his plans. She knew too much of the ritual already." She looked at Fenris's back again. "He knew you would kill her. He wanted you to. This is also the reason why he's been hunting you for so long. He doesn't want anyone else to possess this magic or have any knowledge of it. Even if you hadn't been his slave, he couldn't let you be free."

Hawke heard Fenris draw a breath. He spoke over his shoulder at his sister. "In exchange for what?"

Everyone looked at him, not following the question. He asked again. "The Andrastians. They give him mages to enslave in exchange for what?" Hawke closed her eyes. She was afraid she already knew the answer. Fenris certainly did.

"For her." Of course Varania's eyes fell to Hawke.

Aveline spoke before Fenris could. "That's it. I've heard enough. Hawke you are going back on that ship. This is no longer a personal vendetta for you and your elf. I will not have a corrupted Chantry conspire with blood mages in my city." Aveline drew her sword as if the blood mage in question was in front of her ready to be slain. She pointed to Fenris with the tip of her blade. "You. If you want to come and help kill this magister of yours then come, but she," She moved the sword to Hawke. "is going immediately back to the docks and is going to stay out of sight until Isabela can have the ship ready to take her back to Tevinter. I'm going to gather the city guard. We're marching on the Gallows."

Hawke had indeed been gone for a long time if she was now being ordered about as if Aveline thought she would just agree to that plan. Treacherous Fenris of course supported Aveline. Amazingly he spoke over her too, as if she was an idiot child. "Dwarf, take her back to the Dauntless. If I do not return by the time Isabela is ready to sail, you will leave without me."

Marian broke out into a cold sweat. Absolutely not. She would absolutely not be separated from him. "That is the worst plan ever! If you think I'm going to allow that, you are out of your mind! I'm going. We're all going. The bastard magister dies. If we're lucky we take out the templars with him. Now we're done here. Let's go."

She waited for the objections. Aveline, Fenris and even Varric all opened their mouths at the same time, but before they could protest Varania stood on shaky legs and spoke. "I can help. Please let me come with you. The collar," She touched her neck. "thank you for releasing me from it. I'm a mage, a healer, you'll need a healer." Her eyes begged and Hawke knew she wasn't ready to let her brother leave her sight when she only just found him again on this side of the Veil, regardless of his cold suspicion.

Fenris now had two things to argue and he took a threatening step towards Hawke. She held up her hand at him and asked Varania, "Are you sure you are well enough?"

"I am." She replied obstinately.

Merrill stepped forward shyly. "I'll look after her Hawke. She can stay close to me."

Fenris made a noise that was almost a roar and threw his hands up in the air. "You." He pointed to Aveline. "You will keep that blood mage and my sister," he sneered at Varania as he said the word, "away from this fight. And you,' he pointed to Varric. "Will get her back on. the. SHIP!"

Fenris pulled his sword, but for once, Hawke was quicker and she had her staff in her hands before he could get past her to leave the room. Her magic was swift and solid and utterly complete. The staff that was once her father's joined with her magic like it had been waiting for it for all the long years she had the thing in her possession. Light flashed brightly outward from where she stood, blinding her along with everyone else for a moment. When the flash faded, she was the only one left in the room able to move. The first and only time she had ever used a staff was to paralyze her friends.

She looked around at her handiwork, the spell holding them all in place was devastatingly strong. There was no way Merrill or Varania could break it, and no way Fenris could overcome it with his lyrium even if he did try to phase his body through the Fade to escape it. It would last her just long enough to get out of here and get to the Gallows without Fenris trying to keep her from the place. And it was only right that she go alone. She was done running. She was done having her past be used not only against her but against Fenris. It was time for her to clear the battlefield of their enemies once and for all.

She moved to where Fenris was rooted to the floor. She pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him, softly and tenderly. She felt his lyrium flare at the touch and she looked into his eyes that pleaded with her not to do this even though he couldn't speak. She whispered her love against his lips and then she turned and left to face the tiger alone.


	36. Covet

Hawke exited the house and ran. Dawn was just cracking over the proud rooftops of hightown. She took no heed to conceal herself; staff of a mage, armor of a magister standing out blatantly against the gray stones of the tall mansions. Descending the steps she ran into Donnic, flanked by two other guardsmen. He stopped, shocked to see her and see her alone. She didn't pause, just shouted at him, "They're still inside the mansion. Go. Aveline will explain" and she pushed past him and his guards jumping down the stairs two at a time.

When she entered the Hightown market, she hesitated. The merchants were opening up their stalls for the day and the first of the early morning customers were milling about. At first she received no more than a cursory glance, but when she broke back into a run, crossing the large square in front of everyone's curious eyes, she knew at least some of them recognized her. A few scattered cries of disbelief echoed against the sides of buildings and her name on the lips of the crowd moved faster than her feet as she ran. One man even took the time to yell out a curse and spit at her as she passed.

She didn't even bother to wipe it off her boot. If she didn't deserve it for what she had already done she was soon to deserve it for what she was about to do.

When she finally arrived at the gates to the Gallows, she found them shut, two templars standing guard, shields up and swords drawn. She stopped for just a moment closing her eyes at the sight and sound of the templars shouting at her, questioning her business here.

I'm sorry father, she whispered under her breath, but she knew she needn't apologize. She was doing this for Fenris and for the love they shared that she would not see extinguished. Her father would have done the same for her mother.

When she opened her eyes again, she tilted her staff and nodded her head at the templars. With a flash of light they were held fast, frozen in place. Hawke thought it appropriate that the first blood she spilt was at the hands of the same spell she had been forced to use to restrain her friends. She pulled a dagger from her hip and slit the throats of the helpless paralyzed templars before moving past them through the gates.

xxxx

Fenris was the first to break free by force of lyrium and will. He couldn't remember ever having to pull so much power from his markings before. His skin was on fire as he felt the lines expand, searing into him deeper. He choked down the pain and would have endured twice as much if he could just free himself and catch up with Marian.

Finally he heard a snapping sound and his muscles seemed to fall loose from their prison. He beat back the excessive flare of his lyrium, grabbed his sword and broke out in a run, leaving the others behind.

The sun had risen along with the citizens of Kirkwall who were now scattered about the streets. He sensed a faint hum calling out to him. It was the presence of her magic, not so far away, and it was unmistakable. He ran towards the formless distant energy knowing that his instincts would lead him to her.

He hadn't gone far when he realized there was a buzz of growing agitation all around him. At first he thought the people he passed must be affronted by the mad armored elf with a greatsword, who reeked of magic if Aveline was to be believed, running headlong towards the Gallows. But when he heard snatches of conversation and the words 'apostate', 'murderer' and 'Champion', he knew Marian's presence here was no longer secret.

He ran faster and cursed himself for his rash demands of her at the mansion that led to this. He knew she would never agree to be left behind. Indeed he didn't want her to be anywhere but by his side no matter what, but the fear that gripped him at the thought of her being captured far exceeded his ability to reason.

The words of the abomination in the Fade were coming back to haunt him. He knew and he had been warned that Marian needed protection first from herself and that she would jump into the fire as soon as take a breath. It was his duty to keep the flames from her but he was already failing. Not that the damn woman was making it easy for him. He thought bitterly that if she could only behave like a proper magister and place her own safety first, he wouldn't be chasing after her like a lax bodyguard...or like a panicked lover. He ran faster still.

When the gate to the Gallows came in sight, he slowed his steps without meaning to and a dark foreboding crept into him mingling with the feeling of her magic in the air. He had a wild and terrible urge to run away; an unbidden selfish need for self-preservation. He felt a hot puff of air on his neck, shocking against the chill of the early Kirkwall winter. He heard a whisper in his ear, far off and unintelligible but he knew who it was. So close. Close enough to beckon meant Danarius was close enough to kill and though his gut twisted and his lyrium burned he marched forward to find the magister he needed to protect and the one he needed to kill.

xxxx

The first wave of templars in the courtyard fell quickly. Like the pair at the gate, they had not been expecting her. The second wave had fair warning and matched Hawke's spells with attacks of their own, but they were predictable, as trained pets of the Chantry tended to be, and they too fell. The third wave gave her pause. Only a few, but stronger, with time to plan a strategy that forced her into dagger work. And though not absolutely necessary, her blades were swift and efficient and they hadn't been expecting to die by a dagger in the hands of a mage.

Hawke had barely caught her breath when her next opponents stood before her. Trepidation rose in her chest and up her throat as she eyed half a dozen suits of heavy plate armor with half a dozen breastplates emblazoned with the Eye of the Seeker.

She stood facing the Seekers of Truth. Fenris wasn't there to yell at her so she cursed herself for her rash stupidity. She knew exactly what he would have said anyway. Had she actually broken into the Gallows alone? To do what exactly? Get smited by Seekers?

She buried her fear beneath the iron of her will. Smiting her would cost more than these Seekers were willing to lose. Sheathing her dagger, she pounded her staff on the ground and spoke. "Where is the maleficar you harbor?" She held her breath, and not even a hair on her head wavered. If they silenced her, at least she would still have her guile.

The tallest and broadest in the group, a stern looking woman who unfortunately reminded her vaguely of Knight Commander Meredith, took a step forward trying to be both cautious and threatening. "The list of things you have to answer for Serah Hawke grows exponentially."

Hawke's anger rose along with her magic and the soldiers before her felt it, moving their hands to their blades and bringing up their shields. "I will make you answer for every soul that ever suffered in the Chantry's chains."

Anders would have been proud. She pushed out with her staff and the woman went flying backwards. Hawke braced herself, refusing to give ground even as the knights charged her. She gathered more energy for another push but the force of it never left her hands. Her spell fizzled out in shock when, from behind her, another group of knights charged forward past her and clashed with the seekers.

She just stood there watching her unexpected defenders lock swords with her enemies. She shook the surprise from her head and readied her magic again, lifting her free hand and pulling flames down from the sky. The seekers fell under sword and fire. When the smoke and ash settled, she moved forward to see who her new allies were.

The men left standing each leaned forward, hands on knees, breathing heavily with exertion. Her eyes darted from one to the next. They all looked familiar. When she came to the last man, she cried out and rushed forward.

"Holy Maker! Cullen? Is that you?" She reached out to help lower the templar to sit on the ground. He looked older than she remembered, much more than his true years. His unshaven face had grown gaunt and he looked up at her with tired eyes. "Cullen, are you alright? What happened here?"

"I could ask you the same Hawke. I did not think to ever see you return to Kirkwall." He looked up at her but his gaze seemed distant. "But I'm glad that you did."

"I found them locked up, Hawke. Knowing you, I had a feeling we could use any extra help we could get so I broke them out." Isabela had silently come to stand behind her. Hawke smiled. "I knew you'd probably do something stupid, but I didn't think I'd find you without your lanky elf."

Hawke just didn't have time to explain. "Cullen, please, the magister from Tevinter, I'm here for him."

"Then he was telling the truth." He grimaced underneath his rough beard and then took in Hawke's appearance. "I don't know if this is fortunate or unfortunate, but I am happy to see you looking well if...different. The maleficar brought the Seekers here promising he could draw you in. He was going to let them have you in exchange for the mages still under our care."

Hawke had always known Cullen to be a good man who took his duty seriously. He would never have allowed the mages he swore to protect be given over to slavery or worse. "You tried to oppose them didn't you?"

"Some of those mages were practically still children. We few here, still loyal to our vows, tried to protect our charges when the magister took them. We were unsuccessful." The statement of his defeat was spoken with bitterness. Cullen sat up, his face now grave and intense. "The stink of dark magic and blood has permeated the Gallows for days Hawke. Do you know what's going on? We will help you if we can." He rose as did his men and they gathered their weapons and their honor in silent pledge to fight at Hawke's side despite the history between them.

Hawke grasped her staff tightly and looked between Cullen and Isabela. "Thank you Cullen but I mean to try to end this without risking anyone else. Isabela, the others are likely already on their way. Fenris will be...upset," To say the least. "that I came ahead of them. Aveline is bringing the guard, she can explain." Hawke grabbed Isabela's arm and spoke earnestly. "I have to go. Please...don't let Fenris do anything stupid."

"Like follow you?" Isabela smirked. "Too late, sweet thing."

xxxx

Fenris stepped over the bodies of templars. He felt Marian's magic all over the courtyard. Frantically he moved deeper into the Gallows trying to manage his fear and his hate. He feared Danarius, hated him and hated that he feared him. He feared for Marian and hated that he felt useless absent from her side. As he searched and the moments went by the magic penetrating the air swelled and grew but he couldn't find its focus. Had she engaged Danarius already? Was she fighting his fight without him? Bearing his burden alone? The thought chilled him to his very core. He ran blindly, without a plan, growing more and more agitated with each step, trembling with anticipation and urgency.

He moved past another gate and found himself in a smaller courtyard, stairs leading to the entrances of the buildings flanking each end. He was a snarling vicious mess of lyrium and steel when he came upon Isabela there, white knuckles closed around the hilt of his sword, markings screaming bright and pulsing. She was standing among several other armed men who were looking down on the dead bodies of at least six seekers.

He wasn't thinking clearly enough to question the presence of the other men. "Where?" The one word was all that he was able to pull from the feral torrent in his head.

Isabela was smart enough to answer without pause. "Inside." She jerked her head to the stairs on his left and he charged up them. She shouted after him. "Hey! I'm supposed to make sure you don't do anything stupid..." But he was already inside.

He stepped into a long corridor lined with doors. The magic that surrounded him was stifling and strange. He still felt Marian's indefatigable presence but there was darkness filling in all the spaces around it. He knew she was near and it spurred him forward. He had not made it even halfway down the hall when a deafening shriek rent the silence and pierced through him. He dropped his sword and covered his ears on reflex as the sound throbbed louder and louder. His own cry of pain at the intensity of the assault was drowned out. He stumbled around wanting to escape the noise but it seemed to come from everywhere at once with no source to get away from. Just when he thought his skull would break like glass from the horrible din, it stopped. Then, with a crack a hiss and a sinking dread, the walls around him broke apart and crumbled; the living world shifted and disappeared and Fenris felt the Veil collapse and fall away.

xxxx

Hawke opened every door in the long corridor she had been in many times before. The stifling thickness of the strange magic in the air was slowing her movements and dulling her senses. The odd sediment of old memories surfaced in her mind as she checked every room. The Veil was so thin here, she half expected to see Meredith and Orsino in their offices, brought back to life by her memory and the influence of the Fade that was seeping through the Veil in this cursed place.

When she found every room empty she walked to the last door and entered the large atrium at the end of the hall. She tried to shake the fog from her head as she passed through the doorway.

A man with graying hair sat leisurely on a bench at the far end of the room. They were alone. Though the man was the first thing she saw, the first thing she felt was unmistakably familiar to her. There was a vein of magic flowing; raw power that she had touched before, coaxed through her own fingers and brought forth in a storm. She knew the magic that was supposed to belong to Fenris as well as she knew her own, and it was here, in this place, in its full presence, all over and inside this man before her.

Well beyond her control, her magic boiled over with hate and her face twisted in rage but before she could attack, the man lifted his hand and she was struck with a terrible sensation. It was as if Fenris was standing before her. She felt the caress of his magic but it was being used by another. Her anger faltered, her desire to kill ebbed and she was terror stricken, unable to attack the essence of the man she loved even though it was being used as a weapon against her.

Danarius lowered his hand and spoke to her, calm and still and even-tempered. "Is my little wolf not magnificent?"

Hawke was incensed. She tried again to attack him, with anything, any spell any bit of magic she could muster, but she couldn't turn her magic against the feeling of Fenris. She knew she was being manipulated. She knew the blood mage before her was twisting the magic he controlled and using it to pull at her emotions. But knowing that wasn't helping her and she closed her eyes and smelled lyrium and leather.

She heard the magister rise from his bench and walk towards her. She squeezed her staff with one hand and reached for a dagger with another trying to fight back Fenris's magic that he was forcing against her, lulling her into compliance with it. This isn't him. He isn't here. You can't hurt him. Just attack! But her hands remained still and her magic quiet.

Danarius came to stand next to her, as if the two of them were simply admiring the potted plants side by side. She opened her eyes and stared forward trying to win back her anger, trying to toss away the touch of Fenris's stolen magic. She tried to ignore Danarius when he spoke again, but it was as if he was speaking inside her head.

"I don't blame you for coveting him, Marian." Her name on his lips even sounded like Fenris in her ears and she was horrified. "He is the paragon of my endeavors. He is my magnum opus, and he reflects years of study, of training, of molding him and his magic to suit my needs...not yours." Those last two words were a savage growl spoken through bared teeth and for that brief moment Hawke felt the malicious corruption of the man beneath the shield of Fenris's magic. She latched onto that foul sensation, working up the will to attack.

He continued, composed once again. "But I must admit I am loath to see the two of you parted. It would be a terrible waste to kill you when you could be every bit as useful to me as my Fenris. If anything, I may have to reward him for finding me someone so lovely. His sister was a poor substitution but she served for a time, and she was part of the game that Loranus and I played out with each other."

Danarius turned to look at Hawke. He circled her, hands folded casually behind his back, eyes moving up and down the length of her. "You and he must be simply beautiful together." Hawke wanted to cover her already completely covered body. He stepped close to her face and looked into her eyes, speaking softly now, almost reverently seductive and it made her skin crawl with abhorrence. "I've always thought my little wolf was at his prettiest when he was mounted from behind, crying out his obedience, the line of him bent in submission; but picturing him proudly mounting you, the runecrafting in his skin shifting against your soft curves as he takes you is giving me a whole new perspective on the matter."

Hawke reached out suddenly with one hand, not sure what she meant to do with it, just needing to strike at Danarius somehow and thrilled with herself for gathering enough defiance to do it.

He quickly leaned back, not needing to expend much effort to avoid the blow. "We can certainly explore the many possibilities therein. I will need to rid him of his memories again and we can start fresh with you in the equation this time." He seemed to be speaking the last part to himself but then he addressed Hawke again.

"Any masterpiece can always be made better. I can teach you many things, Marian, with a bit of guidance from a firm hand both you and my wolf would flourish anew. So as one reasonable mage to another, I'm prepared to make you an offer."

Hawke spit in his face and managed to work enough force into her staff to attack with it but he was prepared. The shape of Danarius transformed in front of her into the shape of Fenris, and it was this doppelganger that pushed back with force of its own, staggering her and leaving her feeling unnaturally drained. The fake Fenris strode back up to her smiling too broadly to be accurate and he backhanded her across the mouth, her head jerking violently to the side. She tasted her own blood on her lips and when she looked back up, the form of Danarius had returned.

"I am not one for games. I am negotiating with you in good faith, Marian. You should not squander this opportunity. You will not get a better offer from Loranus I assure you. I understand he has your blood." Danarius went back to his bench and sat, relaxed and leaning back on his hands. "That is exactly the kind of game he likes to play." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's all about control with him, all about the game. He has no finesse, no eye for artistry."

Hawke felt trapped. She prayed to the maker that Fenris was still paralyzed, that he hadn't followed her, because there was only one way she could think of to fight this man on equal footing. Her magic squirmed impatiently while he kept talking.

"Here are my terms. You will give me back my property, and you will tell my little wolf to come without question. In return, I will re-acquire your blood from my old friend Loranus. You may march at my side when I take the capital. If things suit, when I replace the Archon, I may have you replace Loranus." He narrowed his eyes at her. "We'll see. And this will be contingent upon your compliance with perfecting the new vision I have for my Fenris, taking into account some of the improvements you've brought to my attention."

Danarius smiled a deceptively innocent smile. The mad bastard looked for all the world as if he truly expected her to accept his offer. She smiled back at him. She couldn't bring herself to fight the magic of the man she loved here, where it was too real, and where her own magic had its limits. But the Fade was another matter entirely.

She turned her staff in her hands and held it in front of her. She locked eyes with Danarius, the two of them still sharing a smile. She knew the moment when he saw what she was going to do. When he saw her lips part his smile turned ugly and his confidence cracked. He stood and a staff materialized in his hands where there had been nothing before. He lifted his weapon but he was too late. Hawke's mouth opened wide and the shriek that echoed from her shattered the glass of the walls and ceiling. As the shards rained down on the two mages, the world around them retreated and the Fade expanded beneath their feet.


	37. Possession

When the last of the Gallows disappeared, replaced by a barren expanse in the Fade, the unholy shrieking stopped and Fenris regained his senses. His sword was still at his feet and he scooped it up. His lyrium burned deeply, sharper, more acute than what he remembered feeling in the Fade while dreaming. When his eyes fully focused he saw two mages beneath the red sky, staves outstretched, magic huge and pulsing around them.

Marian. He ran to where she stood. Without shifting from her stance, her eyes caught him when he reached her and she smiled. Everything inside him settled at the sight. He felt the burning ebb and the power in his markings flow. She spoke, sparing him just a brief glance before she fixed her gaze ahead of her again. "The others?" She asked.

He looked around. Off behind them Isabela and the small group of men she was with stood with weapons drawn, looking for an enemy. Further away he saw Varric with the other two elves, Merrill and his sister. He prayed, to the gods and the Maker he didn't believe in, that he wouldn't have to watch his back and protect Marian from those two mages as well.

Aveline and Donnic, with a group of guardsman, were all rushing forward in the directionless space. Everyone was searching, but ready. They had been sucked into the Fade without preamble and yet none of them showed any sign of shock or confusion but instead they prepared themselves to fight. This was the mark of friendship that Marian must value so much in these people. This is why she trusted them."They have all been drawn in as well" he answered her.

"Huh. So much for trying to leave you all behind." She winked at him, as if they had already won the battle.

Fenris brought his sword up and replied to her sharply. "Never do that again."

He moved to step in front of her and though he knew what he would see ahead of him, his body still shivered involuntarily when he found himself face to face with his old master. But that brief visceral reaction was all his body surrendered to, at first.

His gut should have been twisting; his skin should have been crawling at the sight of the past that had haunted him for so long standing before him. But with Marian at his back he felt a calm determination. And more so than the sight of Danarius, Fenris saw just past him in the distance, where a life with her was waiting at the end of this.

He would have charged forward in an attempt to cut down the nightmare of his past with one strike, but Marian put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. Her face was now lined with new concern and she spoke with an urgent and uncharacteristic doubt that fractured a small corner of Fenris's fortitude. "Wait. Be wary." She said almost in a whisper. "There's something...else...here."

Her eyes left Danarius and she looked around furtively, but not seeming quite able to see. She lowered her staff and moved forward, studying Danarius who also had lowered his staff and was walking slowly towards them.

"Ah, my little Fenris. Predictable as always. In the absence of his master my slave will bend to anyone. And I see this is the new mistress you bend for. Quite lovely." At the sound of his former master's voice, the fracture in his will spread and he thought he could almost hear the sound of it cracking. The twisted gut and crawling skin Fenris had been expecting now emerged in force. His fingers around the Qunari sword were going numb with the tightness of his grip. His markings started searing, the lyrium pulling at him again as if the calm of being next to Marian had been abruptly sucked away by the dark void of inevitable defeat. Where was his confidence of a moment ago? Where was his resolve to free himself from these chains once and for all?

Fenris's eyes fell to the ground and he felt Marian's small hand slip off his shoulder. He was suddenly so tired. His chest tightened. It was becoming difficult to breath. It seemed to take a tremendous amount of effort to hold onto his current self when the tortured bindings of his old life were creeping back upon him. When he spoke his voice was soft, unsure. "I never wanted these filthy markings Danarius..." Did he? Another magister in another setting appeared in his mind's eye and he heard Crasta's silky scheming voice in his ears. You won them... He reached and searched but the blackness in his head just wouldn't dissipate and he just couldn't remember...

As always the effort to recall his past only led him, like a dead end, to his first memory of the ritual and pain filled him anew. It sparked in the brands on his skin and threatened to consume him. He struggled to remember anything else. Marian. Her touch. Her scent. Her magic. But again his memory failed him, unable to push past the blaze of pain.

Danarius laughed and the sound pulled Fenris back to the present. He was sickened with himself when he realized his vision was wavering with unshed tears and he had to choke down the sob that rose up in his throat. His body betrayed him, so easily subdued.

Danarius spoke again. "Oh, how little you know, my pet. Your true Master is here to reclaim you and things will be well again soon. I can erase the pain of these long years without me."

Erase? Fenris was in no position to even try to understand the terrifying implications of that statement but even so, it filled him with cold dread. Could he be made to forget again? Everything seemed so uncertain. Certainty. Was there anything he was certain about anymore?

A formless energy shifted behind him, a wave that rose and then rushed out past him. He grunted and had to step back to steady himself, knocked off balance by the force of it. It was Marian. He looked up to catch Danarius, wide eyed with shock, bring his staff up in defense against Marian's magic. The magister staggered backwards and his face contorted in anger.

Marian. He was certain about Marian. Certain he loved her. Certain she loved him. The feeling of that simple acknowledgement in his heart was enough to push back the anguish that was overtaking him. Rage formed around the tender emotion and it felt good. He would fight. He had to fight. He would not lose her and he would not allow Danarius to take him from her. He would not forget her. He could not. He must not.

Fenris felt something dark shrivel and fall away from him. A fog, a haze clearing. He blinked and he saw the markings in his arm brighten where Marian's hand now rested. The brightness, both of sight and sensation moved all along the lines of his lyrium. His chest relaxed and he could breathe again. Her magic was cool along his heated skin and he felt joined to her through that simple soothing touch.

Her fingers flexed around his arm and he felt the iron of her will break through Danarius's foul machinations. Marian's voice was loud and filled up the vast emptiness of the Fade. "How dare you!" Her magic was boiling beside him and Fenris's breathe quickened. He smiled. A crazed and hopeful, grim smile. Feeling returned to his fingers and the weight of his sword was wonderful in his hands.

Marian started shouting at Danarius, beautifully defiant. "Do you have any magic of your own, you miserable demon?" Her hand left his arm and he felt her draw more energy into it. "I will not have his magic used against us any longer!"

She pushed out again and the other magister was hit but staggered less, recovered more quickly and he stared down at the pair opposing him. Danarius surrounded himself with the black waves of magic that Fenris knew actually did belong to his old master, because it had once filled Fenris's days with fear. He spoke low and threatening. "What shall it be Fenris? Will you throw your life away?"

Fenris closed his eyes. Throw his life away? Which life? He had lived a life hunted, on the run. He had lived a life cursed, as a slave. And before that, there was a life he had forgotten. He would gladly throw away all of them for the only life that now mattered. His life with Marian.

His reply started as a roar in his mouth and he could barely contain the undeniable truth of it, but he managed to form his lips around the words so they would be understood.

"You are no longer my master!" He shouted it out making sure every creature on both sides of the crumbled Veil heard him. The weight of years lifted off his shoulders. And though the he knew the fight had yet to even begin, if Varric had asked him in that moment, he would have taken the bet that they would win.

Fenris crouched and pulled up his sword. He readied himself to attack and Marian beside him did the same.

Danarius, however, slowly turned his back to them and started walking away. They shouldn't have been able to hear him when he spoke, but his voice carried over to them nonetheless. "You disappoint me, my little wolf..."

As Danarius moved into the distance, Fenris was about to chase him down but then he suddenly became aware of a change in the magic permeating the heavy air of the Fade. It wasn't long after that he saw the 'something else' Marian had originally felt moving towards them.

They materialized out of nothing and became solid as they marched forward. Fenris's breath left his body as if he had been struck. He heard Marian curse out loud.

With his freedom so close, his vengeance tangible as it had never been before, Fenris wouldn't have hesitated to fight through any army to kill Danarius. But this...this gave him pause.

xxxx

"Fucking void..." Hawke swore. She heard Fenris gasp, unable to find words. Fast approaching them was the army the vile maleficar had built for himself. Dozens of figures moving without a sound, drawn into the Fade by Danarius, just as Hawke had drawn her companions in with her.

Even at a distance Hawke saw the dead emptiness in their eyes. These mages, all the mages he had acquired, were now and forever bereft of their magic, silent and tranquil. The spark inside them stolen, usurped, and in its place they wore the markings of their servitude.

They knew enough of Danarius's plans to infer what he had been doing, but knowing and seeing are very different things. Fenris found his voice. It was cracked and dry with disbelief. "They're all...like me..."

But they weren't. Hawke's eyes traced the lyrium on the once-mages that were coming closer. The lines were jagged, rough and disordered. No two individuals shared the same pattern. Gone was the elegance and graceful symmetry of the markings she knew so well on her Fenris. And where Fenris's lyrium moved and shifted, bright and alive within him, she knew without even having to touch these hollow automatons that theirs was static. They were deadly husks, nothing more.

Hawke and Fenris had been unconsciously moving closer to one another and now their bodies touched, back to back as the hoard surrounded them. She breathed in and out. Her magic felt full and free and she had never felt more grateful for it in all her life. She let it envelop her and her elf.

With the last moment they had before the battle was on them, Hawke turned and embraced Fenris awkwardly from behind. "No Fenris, they're not like you at all, love. They belong to Danarius. You belong to me."


	38. Dragon

Chapter 38: Dragon

Of all the mages on the battlefield, present and former, active and dormant, the first one to act was not Hawke, nor Danarius, nor his lyrium soldiers. It wasn't even Merrill. It was Varania.

Hawke still had one arm wrapped around Fenris when she felt a rune tingle under her feet. She looked down and saw the fine lines cross and weave and expand beneath where she and Fenris stood. It was a complex spell of warding and protection; certainly not something Hawke was even remotely proficient at casting and it didn't have the feel of Merrill's primal magic. But Varania had said she was a healer, and this had desire for preservation of life flowing through it. She realized Fenris was staring down at his sister's handiwork as well and she knew he could feel the beneficence of it. She looked up and saw in his eyes the first reluctant, hesitant, wary seeds of acceptance. She resisted the urge to say 'I told you so'. But it was hard.

While they were occupied with Danarius, her friends had made it over to where she and Fenris were positioned. A welcome sight for Hawke, but this meant they were all now being rapidly surrounded. The old familiar sounds and sensations of the moments before battle next to her old companions filled her. The clank of shield and sword, the organic power of Dalish magic, a bolt clicking into place inside Bianca and oddly, Varania's presence taking the place of a different healer left behind in the past.

Hawke and Fenris separated. His eyes and his sword were now aimed at their enemies. If the eerie mirror image of his lyrium against theirs unsettled him, he buried the feeling of it down and refused to let it show.

Hawke's eyes searched out in the distance and came to rest on Danarius. She must keep him in her sight. She was holding open the Fade here by force and she could exact some measure of control over their situation if this remained the case. If she faltered, however, she feared any number of things might happen, none of them good. Danarius could escape them, he could overpower her magic, he could bring destruction down on Kirkwall in a fight with her for supremacy, harming innocents in the process.

She wasn't certain she would be able to keep him in the Fade if he attempted to break free but he seemed to be making no effort to try. He stood apart from the front line that was forming around her and Fenris and the others. She could see him relaxed but focused behind the shimmering wall of a shield spell. Either he was willing to stay to watch the slaughter or he had to remain close by to control his thralls.

A shout from Fenris took her attention away from Danarius. Not to be outdone by the rapid response of his sister to the threat they faced, Fenris was the first to attack one of the branded mages as it tried to lunge at Hawke. He shoved his sword through the enemy where it briefly hesitated against Varania's ward. When he pulled his blade free, with a little more vigor than was necessary, the creature fell to its knees as blood spurted from its mouth spraying Hawke in the face. Fenris, she noted, was unsullied where he had deftly stepped away to avoid the gore.

Hawke reached up her hand and wiped at her nose, doing nothing but smearing a dark red streak across her face. Fenris looked at her, painted with the blood of their enemy. He was fascinated and feral, as if hungry at the sight of it. She lifted her staff out and murmured a soft spell under her breath. He looked behind him just in time to see another attacker explode, its limbs flying in different directions and its blood spattering all over Fenris.

He spun his head back around and looked at her with a scowl. "You did that on purpose."

"So did you."

He smirked. She stuck her tongue out. Then they both turned and fought in earnest.

xxxx

Fenris kept Marian within his reach no matter where she moved. His blade was her shield and his lyrium was her armor. For the first time ever he found himself grateful for his history and grateful for his training. Never before were the skills of being a bodyguard to a magister so desperately important to him, so meaningful. If he couldn't protect Marian, he might as well lay down before Danarius now and surrender himself to oblivion. Not today, not ever, he thought.

He wielded his greatsword with relentless fury, each of his attacks chased by the might of Marian's magic. Their fighting was lethal harmony and any lesser enemy would fast have been crushed beneath it. But this was no lesser enemy; this was, in effect, him. He was fighting himself, multiplied and mindless, but no less deadly, controlled by a man with no mercy.

Some of Danarius's soldiers fought with steel, some fought just with their lyrium. It was the latter he feared because he knew all too well what they were capable of. Marian's companions quickly found out exactly what they, and he, were capable of as well when the first of the mages ignited its markings and reached out at Aveline.

Isabela, having seen Fenris's ruthless abilities first hand, tried to rush to her aid, shouting "Don't let them touch you!"

Aveline nearly stumbled as she tried to quickly retreat. She bellowed back, obviously annoyed at the break in her concentration. "What? Why?"

Marian whipped her head around and redirected her magic to assist, but Fenris was faster. He pivoted and rushed at the slave-mage attacking Aveline. He set his lyrium alight and plunged his own arm through the back of the thing that almost had its hands on the woman's heavy breastplate. His ability had never felt so smooth and effortless. Manipulating the energy in his brands was frighteningly easy here in the Fade. It almost felt like the spark of the lyrium touched the hidden spark deep in his gut where Marian told him she had first felt his shackled magic pulling at its chains.

He pulled free the heart of the now dead mage from its body and tossed it aside. In the blink of an eye he was next to Marian again leaving Aveline swearing a shocked oath to the Maker. Over the clamor of battle he heard Isabela respond. "That's why." The pirate threw a dagger at a nearby enemy and with it threw out an accusation at him and Marian. "You two could have told them about the magical fisting thing, you know!"

Fire burning off her fingertips, Marian yelled, "Not the time Isabela!" And Fenris imagined she meant this was neither the time to explain his markings, nor the time to make inappropriate innuendos.

The fighting continued. Marian and Fenris had a large group of allies at their back, but they were still outnumbered and the longer they fought the more quickly the enemy mages adapted, the more slowly they fell, and the more they learned to stay alive. Fenris's arms began to ache with each swing under the weight of the Arishok's sword and he wondered as he watched the relentless attacks of the branded mages, if all along his survival instinct was nothing more than the lyrium's song refusing to surrender its instrument to the void.

Without having to discuss it, he and Marian were together slowly trying to carve out a path to where Danarius was standing in observation of the fighting. But any one step forward was negated by two steps because Marian kept retreating to help keep the mob off of her friends. And without Marian and Fenris, her friends wouldn't have lasted long. Fenris knew Danarius was using this as a strategy. He was directing his minions to focus on drawing him and Marian away, keeping them pinned down and contained, only able to tread water and never able to make for land.

The mages pushed and evaded, surged then pulled back, using tactics only Fenris could predict, because he was the only combatant on the field who could ever do the same. As much as he wanted to break away from the pack and launch himself straight at Danarius, he couldn't pull himself from Marian's side. She needed him. She was growing reckless and wild and unable to find focus. She seemed to have no plan other than a single-minded determination to destroy their enemies. She attacked and attacked with all manner of deadly magic, her emotions getting the better of her, fiercely trying to protect him and her friends and losing sight of her own safety in the process. He tried to stay ahead of her, anticipate her movements in the hopes of reining her in and gaining some ground.

His breath was becoming labored and he almost believed they would be locked in combat until the end of days. He spared a hurried glance at Danarius, which was all he needed, to see the dangerous magister's plan written all over his leering countenance.

The most frightening thing about Danarius was not his magic. He had not obtained the power he wielded with any spell or enchantment. He derived his power by reading the hearts of his opponents and exploiting the weakness he saw there. Fenris's weaknesses had been laid bare before the man since the day he was born into his markings, but it wasn't Fenris he was about to exploit. His old master had learned Marian's weakness simply by watching her battle his slaves. And just like that Danarius no longer really needed these soldiers. He was going to use Fenris against her and he was going to use Marian against herself.

There was nothing Fenris could do when he saw the red sky above them grow dark and felt the very energy of the air in the Fade turn chaotic. When Danarius raised his staff, Fenris could only brace himself for the pain.

xxxx

Hawke sensed Fenris turn away from her. He had been like her second skin since the battle started, so she stopped her attacks to go to him. She saw him just standing staring at Danarius. Time slowed as she watched him. She saw a curious expression of resignation pass his face, then he dropped his sword and seemed to clench all his muscles at once. The steady glow of his lyrium suddenly flared madly and he collapsed to his knees screaming in pain.

But he wasn't the only one. All of the mages around them lit up against the darkness that now surrounded them and all of them fell to the ground wailing. Fenris was hunched over and his fists were clenched, but the rest of them were fully prone and clawing at their skin.

Hawke went blind, deaf and numb and it was possible that her friends watching her thought it was actually a demon inside her propelling her to where Danarius stood across the battlefield. She set aside all attempts at patience or calculation and threw every ounce of force she could muster at the man who had his staff raised against Fenris. The sound of the magister's protective shield shattering made itself heard over the fury that deadened her senses. Her heart rose triumphantly in her chest as she quickly advanced on him, exposed as he was. But he didn't remain exposed for long. Before Hawke could grasp him with her magic, a black mist rose up between them and spread all around, surrounding the mages, Fenris, her friends. From the mist, formed a host of demons.

Fenris and the mages were still writhing inside their pain. Shouts and orders, curses and prayers spilled out of her companions. All of those sounds were becoming muffled in her ears, buried under the shrieking demands of the demons.

One thought, one necessary action pushed past the entropy trying to overtake her. Protect Fenris. She ran back to his side and cleared a space around them with a white hot curtain of flames, incinerating a large group of lyrium warriors and demons alike. When the heat dissipated, she dropped to her knees to try to help Fenris, but before she could force her magic into him in an attempt to push Danarius's magic out, they were hit with an unexpected spell. The magic was clean, cool and strong and seemed to pull away the burning heat of Fenris's markings. His tense muscles eased slightly and he was able to open his eyes. Hawke looked around frantically for the source of the magic and her eyes came to Fenris's sister, standing apart from the melee, concentrating. Merrill was next to her, the prowess of her ancient magic providing protection so that Varania could heal her brother's suffering.

Unfortunately Danarius saw exactly what Hawke saw and he turned his ire to the two elven women who were hindering his attacks. The distraction was enough to let Fenris recover. Hawke felt him stir in her arms, his face twisted into a snarl and before she could blink he had phased his body into the specter of an elf, and the apparition that was Fenris disappeared from in front of her, only to reappear in front of Danarius.

Hawke jumped up and tried to run to where Fenris and Danarius were engaged, but a pack of Shades floated up from the ground obstructing her path. She practically howled in frustration, and her magic swelled inside her, but she didn't even have time to lash out with it because the demons were banished with a devastating righteous strike. Cullen and his templars were standing just ahead of her. She nodded to them in solemn appreciation for clearing her path. The Knight Captain nodded back as he brought up his sword to continue smiting the monsters of the Fade.

She shot forward trying to reach her love. She was sweating and she couldn't breathe. She saw Fenris, now solid again, reach up to grasp Danarius by the throat. There was a split second of elation when she thought this might be the killing blow, but the Maker was not that kind.

Danarius looked calm, as if he wasn't about to get his throat ripped from his neck, and lifted his hand to Fenris's chest. Before Hawke could take another step, her warrior again was stabbed with the unholy pain of the blood mage's spell.

More demons appeared in her path and they practically burned away in the air when they contacted her magic swirling in angry waves around her, but she just couldn't get there fast enough. Her eyes never left the pair locked in a bizarre embrace and she saw Fenris struggle to remain standing. It was Hawke who screamed now, still running, leaving demon ash in her wake. She could hear her friends rally, seeing her goal, each of them trying to get there as well now and she felt Varania's healing aura spill out in all directions trying to keep the crazed group of them alive.

Fenris's hand fell away from Danarius, but the magister's victory smile was premature. Hawke and all the others stopped abruptly, mouths hung open, shocked gasps caught in their throats at what they saw. What they saw, that Danarius didn't see. Coming up behind him; flying up behind him. A dragon circled the dark red sky and then swooped down in an unmistakable charge right for Danarius.

xxxx

Fenris was not so affected by the pain that he didn't see the most impossible sight he could have imagined. The ground beneath him shook and it was only then that Danarius turned, his hand falling away from Fenris's chest. The agony of the magister's touch immediately cleared, and he had just enough sense about him left to drop to the ground. If he had hoped to see Danarius burned to death in dragon fire, his hopes were dashed when Danarius quickly swept his staff in an arc and disappeared. Fenris looked up, but kept his body down as the dragon swept through the air overhead. His eyes darted around the battlefield and found Danarius unharmed, in the far distance, at the other end of the furiously fighting throng.

Marian was the first to reach where Fenris was still splayed upon the ground. She dropped her staff and pulled him up, hands and magic feeling him, checking him for harm. He grasped her hands in his. "Stop." He stilled her nervous fussing. "Marian, I'm fine." She panted, trying to catch her breath. He could feel her heart throbbing in the empty space between them. It took her only a moment to settle, however, at which point they both looked stupidly up at the sky where the very unexpected dragon roared and spit. The thing dove randomly into a thicket of demon spawn cutting through them with teeth and fire. Another dip onto the fray and it came up with one of the lyrium mages in its jaws only to shake its head and fling the poor mage down, broken, to the ground.

The dragon flew over the battlefield ominously but ceased its attacks and just circled. Marian's small army had all now gathered around them, just watching in amazement.

She cocked her head and, inappropriately, dumbly, simply asked, "Alright, who summoned the dragon?"

xxxx

It was Varania who spoke first. "You don't know do you...?"

Hawke looked up at Fenris's sister, not actually believing someone had answered her ridiculous question. But she wasn't able to question the elf back.

The dragon came around and tried to charge Danarius again. The magister was ready this time. Hawke made a fist and Fenris's whole body tensed along with hers when Danarius pulled a knife from his robes and cut his own wrist.

Mage blood spurted out from the wound and hovered in the air around him for a moment before the droplets floated to merge with his staff. The staff was then brought up and from it emanated an invisible pulse of magic that she felt in her chest even here where they sat so far away. The pulse hit the charging dragon in the chest and it reared back then seemed to crumple in the air. The huge form twisted and turned, shifted and fell and when what was left of it hit the ground, the only noise Hawke could make in response to what she saw was a weak and pathetic grunt.

A tall man landed elegantly on the ground and, without missing a step strode forward, black robes flowing behind him. He walked towards where Danarius stood still bleeding from his own self inflicted wound. If the man had been facing Hawke she knew she would have seen icy blue eyes.

Varania's voice came from somewhere behind them. "You didn't know. Crasta. His magic. He's a shapeshifter."


	39. Brawl

She supposed it all made sense. That the snake of a magister could actually turn into a snake; or a dragon as the case may be. They were all still staring, dumbfounded and exhausted, at the two magisters. The demons and the lyrium warriors all seemed to draw back as Danarius pulled in the leash of his magic, raising his defenses against Crasta. And so they all waited.

The two tall and imposing men weren't attacking each other; they were just standing there taking measure. Hawke marveled that in any other duel, being the first to strike would be the desirous position. But in a duel between two Tevinter magisters, it seemed striking first would be sacrificing strategy.

Just as Hawke was thinking that this fact made her the worst magister in the history of the Imperium, something tingled in the back of her mind. A thought, an idea, a strategy. It was blurry and slow to emerge past the frenetic offense that was her typical motivation. Rusty cogs were turning in her head, creaky and dust covered from years of favoring aggressive ignorance to win a fight instead of actually thinking about it. Was there a way she could claim the advantage here? She kept staring and staring at the maleficarum who held her and Fenris both in their scheming clutches. For as hard as she was concentrating it could have been hours she stared at them, but she knew it was only moments; moments held in this limbo of inaction, this eye in the storm.

She felt Fenris lean into her. "Marian?" She was sure her elf could hear the gears in her head grind and squeal as she tried to pull forward a plan.

The pieces were all assembled in front of her; the game was coming to a climax, but how? How to win? How?

Her face twisted into a scowl that belied the effort of her machinations. She rose, ignoring Fenris as he tried to grab her and keep her close. She ignored her friends, all roused from their shocked stupor and calling out to her in protest as she moved. She left them all behind and, still not knowing exactly what she was going to do, she found herself standing next to Danarius and Crasta silently joining their standoff.

xxxx

Fenris nearly leapt off his feet to pull Marian back from joining the other magisters where they stood plotting the quickest way to kill each other. A hand grabbed his arm from behind, however, holding him in place.

"Brother." Varania's touch was gentle but it was strong and deliberate. He looked down at the delicate fingers on his arm. No one but Marian had touched him in so long. At least no one who was still among the living. He wanted to push her away, he wanted to grasp at his anger and his bitterness, but he was held immobile by the unnerving familiar feel of her and the pleading, scolding, sad, hopeful single word she used to address him.

"I have to...Marian..." He had to protect Marian. He pulled his arm away, but was only able to take one step before Varania spoke again, his name this time, but he noticed she seemed to have to concentrate to say it.

"Fenris. Your woman. Let her protect you. She is a powerful mage, Brother. And, though slim, she has the advantage. Crasta must have used her blood to find and follow her here. He wasn't expecting her to try to kill Danarius in the Fade, let alone a part of the Fade she forcibly drew us into that she can manipulate at her will. If Danarius dies here, he can't risk that she might be able to grab hold of your magic in his place. Crasta always meant to take you entirely for himself. But if he can't, he won't hesitate to kill you rather than let anyone else have you. As for Danarius, he won't kill you no matter what. But if he has to fight to claim you, he will be forced to hold back if he wants you undamaged."

Bloodlust throbbed inside Fenris's head and he was salivating at the sight of those he wanted dead most in the world seemingly within reach. "And if I kill them both here and now?" Deep menace laced his words.

His sister smiled and replied in a frightening feminine echo of his own threatening tone. "Then you're free."

xxxx

If she could only find a way to kill them both now, Fenris would be free. Given a chance, they could battle Danarius down, but Crasta wasn't even really here. His body lay somewhere in Minrathous as he wielded his consciousness and his magic in this island of the Fade she had pulled open. It wasn't as if she could...

And then it all clicked into place.

Crasta wasn't here, but his magic was. And if she killed him in the Fade, he would be made tranquil. She had done it before to that poor boy Feynriel. He had been a danger to himself and to others and, though it had also killed something inside her to do it, she knew it had to be done. Anders hadn't spoken to her after that for weeks. He had even moved out of her house for a time, but she stood by her decision. She looked over at Crasta, his angular features laced with evil intent. Merrill had said all they had to do was sever the magic binding Fenris. Severing this man's magic from his body wouldn't cause her a moment's guilt.

Hawke squeezed her fingers around her staff. She knew how to win now and it was time she took control of this fight. One magister to kill and one to make tranquil. The terrain of the Fade started to change at her bidding. The red sky turned solid black, the dust beneath their feet turned to slick, damp stone. Buildings rose up around them, but they were broken and crumbling. Uneven elevations and outcroppings of rocky paths appeared, carved into the walls of a vast cave. The magisters tried to hold onto their arrogant demeanors but she could tell both of their hearts were beating faster at the unexpected arena Hawke was forcing them to fight in. She imagined neither of them had ever fought in an ancient thaig in the deep roads. Well, she had. She didn't need to bleed herself or summon any demons to fight at her side. The manifestations of her own memories were enough to break down even the most steadfast of warriors, and she had relived these battles enough times in the Fade of her nightmares to know exactly what lurked behind these rocks.

She felt the hum of nervous energy in the air. Aveline and Cullen would marshal their men in expert fashion in any setting. She had no cause to worry for them. Varric would keep an eye on the women; Isabela, Varania, Merrill. After all, he had survived this place just as Hawke had. Danarius, Crasta and the slave-mages would now not only have to fight through her, Fenris and her friends, but also the world Hawke had now trapped them in. And almost as a response to that thought, she saw rocks in the distance hover and shift into wraith-like forms; the huge shadows of golems moved out from their ancient places of rest, the spark of lyrium inside them singing in the air.

Fenris came up to stand behind her, his sword drawn, his lyrium bright. His focus was unaffected by the scene coming alive around them. His presence seemed to agitate the magisters even more than their new perilous surroundings.

Collective breaths were held. Hawke and Fenris's eyes met in a sideways glance. She smiled at him. A confident, implacable, strategic smile. His face betrayed no response to their opponents, but she could feel that even though he didn't know what she planned, he would follow.

Neither of them leaves here alive, Fenris. She didn't actually speak the words, but she knew he could read them on her face. And then her face, and the faces of both the magisters, contorted in spite and malice and they all attacked at once.

Fenris charged at Crasta, his sword drawn back, poised to swing out at the magister. But Crasta was already shifting and changing into the form of a giant yellow-eyed wolf. Fitting, Hawke thought. The beast dodged Fenris by kicking off its back legs as it lunged at Danarius.

Danarius released the leash on his army and the hoard of monsters, both natural and mage-made, swarmed around Hawke's friends. Then with a turn of his staff he summoned the huge and dark imposing form of a Revenant, who appeared in front of Hawke, pulling her into its sword's reach.

Hawke wasn't about to waste time casting spells. She pulled back her staff, almost mimicking Fenris's motion with his sword, and when she swung it around it was a staff no longer. She met the Revenant with a weapon of her own and the long thin curved blade of a wicked looking scythe clashed against the demon's sword. She may not be a skilled warrior like Fenris, but this was her corner of the Fade to control and her magic did the work of fighting for her in the manner of the ancient arcane warriors.

She was about to strike again, but it wasn't necessary as Fenris had appeared and cut clean through the black figure with one smooth blow. Hawke took advantage of the opening Fenris gave her and she spared a glance at her companions. They were heavily engaged but holding their own. The golems and rock wraiths were slowly picking off Danarius's minions as well, seeming to favor the demons and lyrium laced mages over the ordinary humans.

Hawke heard a yelp and looked to see Crasta, still in wolf form, take a fireball to the chest from Danarius. The smell of singed fur shot up her nostrils. Fenris moved between the wolf and Danarius, landing heavy strikes against the sword of one of the lyrium mages that had appeared to protect Danarius. Hawke spun her scythe around to help Fenris and she managed to cut a vicious gash across the back of the mage. Fenris finished off the poor creature and Danarius was suddenly exposed. Both of them jumped, weapons in the air. Blood swirled around Danarius's staff again and before Hawke could guess at the spell, her weapon erupted into flames in her hands. She screamed and dropped it to the ground, clutching her smoking hands to her chest. The same happened to Fenris and his greatsword fell, but he ignored the burns on his flesh and in a flash of lyrium light he tried to lunge at Danarius. But he never made it, because he was tackled from behind by a wolf twice his size.

Hawke shouted out as Crasta and Fenris rolled away, both snarling and clawing at each other on the ground. Hawke tried to summon her magic into her scorched hands. They seared with pain but before she could cry out again a bright rune appeared beneath her and the wounds were healed. Varania, wild eyed and surrounded by white wisps of spirit magic, had made it to Hawke's side just in time to throw up a shield against another fire attack from Danarius.

Hawke couldn't bother with thanking her at the moment. She yelled at the other woman. "Fenris! Help Fenris!" Varania searched him out and was about to rush to him, her magic already moving ahead of her when Hawke grabbed her arm and made a low and crazed threat. "If he dies..." It was an ugly growl and it held a panicked terror. She didn't finish the sentence. She could tell Varania took her meaning. If Fenris died, so would they all. Hawke knew her heart. It was laid bare in the heat of battle and she knew that if he died she would not be able to control her grief. She would be lost, control forgotten, and pain and rage would overtake her magic and she couldn't be held responsible for the destruction it would cause. Varania simply nodded and went after her brother.

She was just in time because as soon as she reached him, Hawke saw Crasta swipe a clawed paw at Fenris's neck. Hawke almost choked when she saw blood well up between his lines of lyrium, but as quickly as it appeared the wound was closed by Varania and the two wolves continued their deadly grapple among the rubble of Hawke's imagined thaig.

Something suddenly whooshed past Hawke's ear and when she heard the thunk of a projectile hitting its mark, she looked to see Danarius pulling Bianca's bolt from his own shoulder with a vicious curse. Blood spurted from the wound and the maleficar wasn't about to let it go to waste. But Hawke wasn't about to let him escape. She hurled herself at the taller man just as he tried to transport himself away from the middle of the fray. Her body slammed against his and in a quick flash of light she snapped out of existence with him only to immediately rematerialize atop one of the rocky paths overlooking the many fights being waged among the ruins.

She had no idea what she meant to do as she tangled herself around the magister, fighting against him like she was more an animal than the wolves engaged in their own fight below. He tried to pull her away and keep his footing at the same time. She managed to punch him square in the jaw, pain cracking through her knuckles at the contact. The hit seemed not to faze him at all and if Hawke could see anything but her anger at that point, she would have seen the tendrils of blood from the wound in his shoulder float and wrap around her. She would have seen it, but she wouldn't have been able to stop it when the blood magic took hold of her and started sucking her mana and her life force from her. She managed to hold onto the core of her magic deep in her gut and it was enough to force her arms to reach up and wrap her hands around Danarius's throat.


	40. Atonement

Fenris was thrown backwards and he slammed against a stone wall. He felt his ribs crack as he slid down to the ground. Varania's magic poured over him, mending the broken bones. He had quickly lost count of the number times his sister had healed him, only to be torn open again. He looked up from where he landed to see the giant wolf leaping in the air to launch another attack. Fenris only had enough time to put up his arms and allow his lyrium to flare when Crasta landed on him knocking the breath from his already winded, battered body.

There was a flash of yellow eyes and white teeth and if a wolf could be said to smile, Fenris was sure he saw an evil grin curl on the beast's snout before its jaw clamped down on his shoulder. He heard himself cry out in pain, wishing he hadn't given Crasta the satisfaction. The wolf shook its head ripping off a chunk of Fenris's flesh with the movement and his pained cry turned into a weak whimper as his arm went limp from the damage. He saw white light from behind his closed eyes again and he felt the jagged edges of his wound knit back together. He almost thought he would just as soon suffer the wounds as they accumulated rather than having to suffer them being healed and then re-inflicted over and over.

Crasta knew his sister wouldn't let him die. This was just a new kind of torture. The wolf was playing with him, toying with him, letting Fenris fight back just enough to think that he might gain the upper hand and then tearing down his advantage along with more of his flesh.

Fenris bucked from underneath Crasta. He grabbed hold of fist-full's of fur and managed to roll them so he was on top. He tried to use his lyrium to sink his hands into the animal's body, but he could feel the magister's magic rise up and resist it. Instead he drew back a fist and threw a punch into one of the yellow eyes staring back at him. There was more struggling and rolling amongst the rubble. More blood and broken bones and torn flesh. More wounds that his sister healed even as they were formed. All the while, Fenris felt Marian's magic somewhere in the distance as she fought in her own duel with Danarius.

He tried to maneuver his fight to stay as close as he could to the feel of her magic. He struggled and struggled, but he felt he was getting further and further away. Crasta was keeping him from her deliberately, by force. But he couldn't allow it. He couldn't be separated from her. They were stronger together. He couldn't let her take on Danarius alone. He had to break free of this fight with Crasta and help her kill Danarius.

Pain suddenly pierced through Fenris's leg. The wolf had sunk its teeth into his thigh and blood gushed from between the deadly jaws. Fenris could feel the beast's growl vibrate along his torn skin. He braced himself to receive another healing spell from Varania, but when none came he searched out his sister even as he continued to grapple in the dust with Crasta. He saw her turned away from him, looking up at the jagged rocky outcroppings in the walls surrounding them, magic held in her hands. She seemed to want to direct her protection to someone more in need than him, but she was hesitating.

Fear rose up inside Fenris and suddenly the feeling of Marian's magic began to quickly slip away from him. Dread blotted out his vision and deafened his ears. He twisted and pushed against Crasta and tried to look for her. He followed Varania's line of sight and saw two figures locked together, staves abandoned in favor of hands on throats. Marian and Danarius were throttling each other. But there was more. Even though the smell of the animal clawing at him filled his nostrils, he could still smell Danarius's all too familiar blood magic permeate the air as it sucked the life from the woman he loved.

Fenris went wild and lost all ability to focus his attacks. He flailed ineffectually at the wolf above him, trying to break free so he could get to Marian. He shouted out to his sister in a frenzy. "Go! Help her!" He ordered, but when Varania snapped her head back to him, he saw on her face she had already been given her orders. Of course Marian would have told her to stay with him at all costs, to make sure he was healed before all others. If Fenris knew his Hawke, it was possible she had threatened Varania to do exactly that.

Another vicious bite shredded the same spot on his thigh down to the bone and for a moment pain consumed him. Teeth were still locked onto his leg when Varania sent her magic out to him, but the spell never made it. Something else hit all three of them, the two wolves bound in battle and the healer looking on. Through the agony exploding out from his leg, Fenris heard his sister grunt and saw her fall to her knees. He felt the power in his lyrium suddenly recede and most amazingly of all, the wolf that weighed down upon him shrank back and away, reassuming human form.

Templars. There were templars here from the Gallows fighting alongside them. He couldn't see where they were or if their attack had been meant to help him or was just thrown out at random in the chaos of battle. But they had managed to silence Varania and force Crasta to revert back to himself. Fenris tried to take advantage of the opening.

Struggling to his feet, his sword far out of his reach, he opened every corner of himself up to the burn of his lyrium hoping it would be enough for him to strike out at the mage in front of him. But he already knew he was going to be just one fraction of a moment too slow. Crasta recovered almost instantaneously from the Templar attack and there was enough of Fenris's blood drenching the man for him to gather it into a spell. The maleficar's blue eyes were smug as his bloody hands reached out with dark magic. Fenris braced himself against the inevitable attack when from behind and above him came a rush of unexpected force that pushed him forward as it passed him. The pulse of magic that sang to his lyrium with Marian's voice landed squarely on Crasta, stunning him. How she had managed to work up enough magic to help him was a question for another time. He would not waste her efforts. His lyrium lit and he charged.

It happened so fast, Fenris almost thought it hadn't happened at all. Smug blue eyes widened to black. The self-satisfied smile disappeared and was replaced by open-mouthed shock. Dark bubbles of blood emerged from Crasta's gaping mouth along with a gasp of either disbelief or pain, Fenris couldn't be sure. When Fenris pulled his hand free he marveled that the man actually did have a heart and he watched it beat inside his fist.

Fenris didn't wait for the beating to stop, nor did he stay to watch the body of Crasta fall. Fenris could only hope that killing the magister in the Fade like this would prevent the man from troubling them further in this battle. Had he known killing the magister in the Fade like this would prevent the man from troubling them ever again, he might have taken a moment to savor his victory. As it was, Marian needed him, so he quickly turned on his mutilated leg and ran for her.

xxxx

The feeling of Fenris and his lyrium was like a solid and unwavering anchor amid the entropy of the battle. Even as Hawke struggled to resist the blood magic that was overtaking her, she could sense him off in the distance. Still alive. Still fighting.

Danarius loomed over her, his hands tightening around her throat. Hers did the same around his. He gasped out broken phrases, words of deadly magic she didn't understand, but was forced to fight against nonetheless. She felt all the power in her try to flee, draining away as if she was bleeding to death from an open wound and with each moment that passed the feeling of life being sucked out of her grew. It burned and it stung. It was like her insides were being pulled out through her eyeballs. It was like her skin was being flayed from her bones. It was like no magic she ever knew existed in her darkest nightmares.

Her will to continue to suffer through this would have broken if not for the presence of Fenris. She focused everything left in her on the sensation of him. When the beacon of his lyrium faltered for a moment, she would have panicked, but there was still some part of her that recognized the potent attack of the only templar she could call a friend. Cullen's efforts were too far away to help her against Danarius, but they had helped Fenris, which was enough.

Suddenly Danarius seemed to draw back. His magic seemed to pause and his hands relaxed against her neck. She saw his eyes move below them. She looked down as well and saw Crasta, now back in his own form, covered in blood that she could only imagine belonged to Fenris. He was about to use that blood to attack her love. She pulled what was left of her magic out of her to aim it at Crasta. At the same time she realized Danarius was about to attack his rival as well, in a bizarre effort to protect Fenris.

Hawke's magic reached Crasta first; her efforts fueled by emotions more pure than the possessive depravity of Danarius' feelings towards his pet. Without even seeing her force push hit its mark, she knew it had done so, because immediately she felt Fenris flare with power. If someone could sigh with relief while they were being strangled of air and drained of life, she managed it, knowing Fenris had broken one more of his chains.

And then there was only one left. She wished she could help him break his final bond, but as the hands on her throat tightened again and the blood magic darkened her vision, she feared she had to leave the rest to him.

Danarius pushed down on her and she fell to her knees. Hawke's hands slipped off her opponent's throat and clutched at her own chest, a new wave of pain overcoming her. She hoped she had enough in her to hold on even as a hopeless scream escaped her lips.

xxxx

His leg gushed blood as he ran. He passed his sister, still trying to recover her power after the Templar attack. He passed some of Marian's friends fighting off creatures that should never see the other side of the Veil. He saw Danarius and Marian on a higher elevation. He searched frantically for a way up to them, ignoring the dizziness in his head and the nausea in his gut growing from loss of blood. Then he heard Marian screaming. Fear turned to terror and smoldering hatred turned to uncontrollable violence at the sound. Fenris started scaling the wall of rock between him and the two mages locked together.

He dug his gauntlets into the stone. He phased his fingers through the solid rock where there was no place for his hands to find purchase. Each step and push with his damaged leg shot pain through every part of his body, but he climbed the distance faster than he had ever done anything in his life. It still felt like an eternity. When he finally pulled himself onto the platform he could almost see Marian's magic, Marian's life, spilling away into the dust at her feet. Her eyes were wide open, she was on her knees, screaming and still reaching up, choking Danarius.

And then her hands grabbed at her own chest. Fenris jumped at Danarius from behind completely controlled by his lyrium and his rage. And then her eyes slid shut. Fenris laid a hand on Danarius's shoulder. And then her hands dropped to her side. Fenris shoved his hand through Danarius's back. And then she fell to the ground. Fenris pulled at the first thing his fingers met inside Danarius's body and when he ripped the spine free from its skeleton, his former master fell limp and lifeless to the ground next to Marian.

Fenris was numb. He saw his knees in front of him as he dropped down next to the two bodies. He saw his arms gather up Marian. He heard his own breath scrape out from his chest into the air, but he couldn't feel it. He couldn't tell if she was warm or cold in his embrace. He couldn't sense if she moved. But worse than the absence of any of those tangible things, he couldn't feel her magic.

The Fade started to change around them again. Jagged rock disappeared, replaced by smooth stone. Crumbling dwarven architecture disappeared, replaced by imposing Imperial-made buildings and they were now in the middle of a courtyard in the Gallows. The strange atmosphere of the Fade still clung all around them but the Veil was rapidly closing. What did that mean?

People started running to where Fenris held Marian. Voices shouted at him, but his mind couldn't process the words. Someone dropped down right next to him and suddenly another pair of hands was on Marian. He saw white light expand from under the hands and travel along his love's delicate form. It was his sister, trying to heal an invisible wound.

Next to his sister's magic he felt another primal force. The dark haired elf, Merrill was standing behind Varania. Her staff was raised up and her face was taut with concentration. Fenris felt the Veil flutter, not quite dropping shut. The Dalish mage had taken over holding them in the Fade. Varania's healing power grew drawing from the atmosphere of magic.

What was happening? Fenris suddenly felt as if his consciousness was slammed back into his body from where it was floating in the ether above this moribund scene. Marian was dying. He started panting. He didn't know where to look. He didn't know what to say. There were no more enemies for him to fight. He was helpless. His gauntlets dug into Marian's armor where he held her.

He spoke to his sister in Tevene. It sounded like a desperate shout in his head, but it came out as barely a parched whisper. "You must...please...please..." Save her. He begged but he couldn't voice the last two words, because that would mean she needed saving. The woman who had saved him, needed saving and he couldn't do it. Again the slave was at the mercy of his fate. A pained gurgle of a moan escaped his mouth. His lyrium burned bright beyond his control. He didn't feel the pain of it. It was overpowered by the pain of the sight of Marian, silent and still.

Varania looked up at him when his markings ignited. Their eyes met, brother and sister, and without saying a word, Fenris tore off his gauntlets and grabbed his sister's hand. She gasped at the sensation of his lyrium opening up her magic wide. He squeezed her hand and released all control to the lyrium and the sister he didn't know.

Varania focused again on her healing. Merrill held open the Veil; her breathing heavy but even. Fenris hung his head and prayed. He didn't know who or what he prayed to. He had never believed in anything but the inevitability of pain and suffering. Until he met Marian. He believed in her. He believed in her promise of love and life. So he prayed to her. Not to leave him. Not to die.

Fenris felt Marian's friends slowly gather around them. None of them breathed. They just stood; likely praying to whatever it was they believed in. Sweat dripped from his sister's face and she bit her lip. He knew what she was going to say before the words left her. "It's not enough..."

Fenris had never felt so weak. Tears pooled in his eyes. He was too weak to hold them back. A sob formed in his throat and he was too weak to hold it in. He stared blankly ahead, too weak to look down at Marian's placid face.

Among the wavering buildings of the real world that Merrill was holding at bay, Fenris saw through the blur of his tears a shadow of a figure approach their group. He knew it was the abomination before he even fully materialized. He was coming to fulfill their agreement. Fenris had failed to protect Marian, and now this dead man was bringing his reckoning.

Fenris was almost grateful for it. He deserved worse. He deserved worse than oblivion. As the broad human advanced, Fenris hung his head down to touch Marian's. Bereft, the little wolf howled.

xxxx

Hawke felt warm. Warm all over. Warmth spread from her heart outwards making everything from the hairs on her head to the tips of her toes tingle. It was familiar, so familiar this warmth. Her magic stirred and rose up to meet the sensation that seemed to be coming from outside her body. Her world had darkened and narrowed and it seemed like she had fallen asleep and then there was this.

The world now expanded out from the tingling and the warmth; opening up to the feeling of hands on her chest. And from there she felt the muscles of strong legs under her where her head rested. Then stone, then people; friends. She opened her eyes. A forehead was resting on hers. White hair tickled her face where it fell from the man who held her on his lap. Fenris. She smiled. He felt the movement of it and jerked back. She looked up into his green eyes, upside down from where he leaned over her. He looked...bereft, but she couldn't imagine why. His eyes left hers and he looked up. Hawke followed his gaze and she finally saw him.

Anders. His honey eyes looked down at her and she knew why the warmth she felt was so familiar. His face was calm and peaceful like she had never seen while he lived. His healing magic felt massive here in the Fade. No one had to tell her what had happened. She had almost died and he had healed her...again.

Anders smiled back at Hawke, lifting a hand to her cheek and brushing slowly, softly as if remembering the feel of her. He then looked away and up to Fenris. He spoke softly, addressing the man Hawke loved.

"This is my gift to you both. This is my atonement."


	41. Fire

Loranus Crasta walked briskly behind two templars. They moved quickly, but he had no trouble keeping up. Their small group moved through the halls of the senate. There were few people present at this hour; only some slaves here and there busying themselves cleaning in dark corners or running an odd late night errand for their master. Shadows flickered in the halls from the oil lamps lighting their way. They arrived at a nondescript door in an otherwise empty corridor. After knocking twice one of the templars ushered him through and followed him inside; the other remained standing in the hall. The room they entered was small and dimly lit with only a few candles. A man rose from where he was seated behind a desk and approached the pair. 

Loranus bowed his head slightly. "Your Excellency" he said with a hollow sounding lack of inflection. 

The Imperial Archon was an unassuming man who looked years too young for his station. Whether his virility was a trick of magic or the product of exceptional breeding was the subject of many rumors among the nobility in Minrathous. He stepped close and peered into his Executor's eyes. Long pale blond hair shifted around the Archon's face as he leaned in towards the older man. He narrowed his eyes as if studying Loranus closely. He stepped back and looked him up and down. He stepped around and circled him twice. He stepped forward again, tilted his head and brought his hand up to his clean shaven chin in a pensive gesture. He addressed the templar when he spoke. "He was found thus?"

The templar bowed his head before responding. "Yes Excellency, with this." The templar offered up a small vial. 

The Archon took it and the blood inside the phylactery glowed at his touch. He turned the valuable bit of glass in his hand and with a subtle flourish it seemed to disappear. He let out a long sigh and spoke to the templar again. "This man served our Empire with distinction. I want his funeral pyre to reflect that honor."

Head still bowed, the templar replied, "I will see to it, Excellency."

Calmly the Archon walked back over to the desk and took from it a dagger. Loranus watched passively when the thing was brandished before him. 

"You were a dragon among men, my friend," the Archon said to him almost sadly. "I can only repay your loyalty with this." 

Swiftly and deliberately, the dagger found a new home in Loranus Crasta's gut. Reflexively the tall man grabbed at the blade buried to the hilt in his flesh. The Archon backed away when his soon to be former Executor dropped to his knees. Loranus blinked one last time as if suddenly, briefly awakening from a dream; as if suddenly, briefly awakening from his Tranquil nightmare. He smiled. A proud and wistful smile and the Archon nodded his head in acknowledgement when he collapsed on the floor stuttering out his last words. "Thank you."

The deed done, the Archon retrieved his blade and gathered some of his robes to wipe it clean. He carefully set the dagger back on the desk and returned to sit behind it as he gave the templar one last order. "Now," he said with authority, "Bring me the Hawke."

xxxx

Hawke watched Anders disappear along with the last vestiges of the Fade that Merrill's exhausted magic could no longer hold onto. Everything between them was forgiven in that moment and she had wanted to thank him, but even before the Veil fell, Anders had risen and turned away from her and Fenris. As she watched his fading form walk away she realized his gift had not so much to do with accepting gratitude as it was about his own need for recompense. She hoped it helped his spirit find peace in his wanderings beyond the Veil.

She felt a heady contentment as she lay on the cold stone of the Gallows, her head resting on Fenris's lap. She turned her head a bit, but jerked up when she felt Fenris twitch and grunt in pain. Dark blood was seeping from a savage gash in his leg. Snapping back to reality at the sight of his suffering, Hawke pressed her hands against it to stanch the flow of blood and Fenris stifled a groan. She tried to draw her magic out and into his wound, but nothing came. She gathered herself, sat up straight, and closed her eyes meaning to try again, but another pair of hands came to hover over top of hers.

Varania spilled white light onto Fenris's leg through Hawke's hands. "You're still weak" she said. But it became clear that both of them were quite weak when they pulled their hands away. Though the bleeding had stopped, the flesh was still ragged and torn. Now both women leaned forward to make another attempt at healing when they heard raised voices and the sound of steel clapping on stone as if many armored feet were running towards them.

"Alright ladies, we can dote later." Varric pushed forward to the front of the group. To Fenris he said seriously, and with a concerned frown on his face, "It's time all of you mages got out of the Gallows before you don't have that option anymore."

Hawke blinked with the realization that he meant Fenris as well. Suddenly, she feared for him. After everything they had done to return his magic, she feared what that now meant. The door to his freedom had both opened and shut at the same time. He was free of the tyranny of the master who held his chains, but now a slave to that which all the rest of Thedas regarded as dangerous and worthy of imprisonment. Hawke had lived her life controlled by those facts, but now Fenris would suffer the same. His bright future that she had envisioned was dissolving rapidly in her mind under the weight of what the Chantry could, would, do to him if captured. A mage infused with his own lyrium. The thought made her shudder more than any possible imagined torture of the magisters. She had never feared so much for herself, had never even feared so much for her sister or her father, but Fenris...what fate had she put him at risk for?

He must have seen the panic growing inside her. He rose in one fluid movement, despite his damaged leg. He grasped at her shoulders and pulled her into an embrace that was tight and rough. He brought his lips to her ear and for all the soothing flow of his words, what he gave her was a command. "It is a victory, Marian, make no mistake. But it is by no means our last. We go back to Minrathous." He released her and looked up and around at the growing noises coming from what remained of the templars and seekers in the Gallows. He said louder, seeming to address everyone, "And we go now."

Isabela brushed past Hawke and Fenris and grabbed up Merrill from where she had been resting on her knees on the ground. "It's not safe for you here either kitten, you're coming with us." The elf nodded sadly, but allowed herself to be pulled up. She scurried along with Isabela as the pirate headed up what would be a hurried march, if not an all out run for their lives back to her ship. Isabela didn't look back, fully expecting the rest of the 'mages' to follow.

Varania stepped back and looked with uncertainty between Hawke and Fenris. Hawke looked up at Fenris. Fenris looked at his sister and after a silent moment he nodded once. She nodded back at him, half a smile on her face, and then ran after Isabela.

Fenris made a move to lift Hawke up in his arms, but she stopped him. "I can run." She looked down dubiously at his shredded half healed leg. "Can you?"

Varric clapped him on the back. "We could always ask Aveline to carry him." He ducked away out of the guard captain's reach as he said it.

Aveline wasn't about to waste time bickering. She issued orders to Donnic and what remained of her guard after their battle. She nodded wordlessly at Cullen who had come to stand next to her. "Hawke, we won't let what they did here go unpunished. I may have no authority over what the Chantry does outside this city, but I will make sure they don't bring their war inside our walls."

Cullen agreed with her. "We'll take back the Gallows and try to go on as we did before, but for now, all of you are still not safe here." Hawke knew he didn't just mean the Gallows. He meant anywhere outside Tevinter. "You must go."

Hawke looked to Fenris again. He answered her question impatiently. "Of course I can run, now let's go." He gathered up her staff and his sword and then pulled her along after Isabela.

Hawke yelled at Varric. "Are you coming?"

"Of course I'm coming, Hawke. I have to follow the story."

xxxx

If being a mage felt like searing pain and exhaustion, then Fenris was a mage to rival the Archon. He didn't know what his 'magic' should feel like right now or if it should even feel like anything at all. What he did know was that his leg felt like it would shatter with each step he took and he was so tired he was secretly glad Marian refused to let him carry her.

There had been no time for him to express his gratitude or even to acknowledge the miraculous gift the Abomination...no...Anders, had given him in breathing life back into Marian. One moment he had hoped only that the dead mage would make him suffer as he deserved before killing him for bringing harm to the woman they both loved and the next moment all was made right and Fenris had a future again. He was holding on to Marian's hand as they moved forward and he squeezed it as if to make sure it was solid and they were both alive and together. Fenris swallowed down another bit of old prejudice and resentment, not to mention jealously, as he vowed to himself to thank Anders if he ever encountered him again in the Fade.

The day had come and gone and night had fallen on Kirkwall while they were otherwise occupied fighting, but this night hardly came with quiet streets and sleepy citizens. People were packed in the squares and the place was abuzz with talk of the Champion and how she was certain to have returned to bring destruction on them yet again. Isabela had the monumental task of leading them through the shadows, keeping them unnoticed and hidden in every dark corner and unobserved alley she could find on their way back to the docks. When they finally made it, they crept aboard the ship like rats while Isabela made excuses to the harbormaster claiming they were leaving in the dead of night because they didn't want to get tangled in any mage-templar confrontations that the Champion was sure to be stirring up even as they spoke. It seemed this wasn't a unique excuse however because every other merchant, fisherman and privateer was in line to pull anchor as well and get out of Kirkwall. If Fenris didn't know Marian so well, he might be surprised that her very presence could cause such an uproar. Well, her presence and the fact that dozens of people lay dead in the Gallows. But by now, he was well acquainted with effect she had on...everything.

'The Mages', as Varric had dubbed them, cowered below deck and everyone was nervously silent until they were well out to sea. When Isabela sent someone down to let them know it was safe and they weren't being followed, Marian released a breath she had possibly been holding since they left the Gallows.

Varric took Merrill in hand saying he would help arrange her sleeping quarters for their journey north. Fenris limped behind Marian to their own cabin. When his sister followed them into the small room he didn't have a chance to react negatively or otherwise, because Marian gave him such a reproachful glare as she pointed violently at the bed he could do nothing but comply and lie down on it. The two women huddled around his injury. If it didn't hurt so damn much he would have bristled at anyone but Marian even thinking to actually touch him with magic at their fingertips, but as it was, he feared that if they didn't act he would be permanently lame.

He felt Marian's magic first, not so much healing as it was soothing and then he felt the now familiar waves of Varania's restorative magic. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, it just was. He rested his head back on the pillows and closed his eyes. He still had no desire to speak to or even know this woman. His family. The only tie to his forgotten past. But neither did he feel the doubt that he had previously directed at her. There was only a curious indifference. He drifted in and out of sleep as they worked, his pain rapidly subsiding. A small hopeful part of him wanted to believe that along with Danarius died at least some of the mindless hate that had plagued all his thoughts and tainted all his actions. Perhaps this indifference would evolve into something less exclusionary and more accepting. In time.

Hours passed and his half-consciousness moved into unconsciousness that was blissfully free of dreams. When he woke, he was alone with Marian who was lying beside him on the bed. She had gotten them both undressed and cleaned up while he slept. He tentatively flexed the muscles in his leg. They felt whole and functional again. His pain was entirely gone, but he still felt tired so he made no move to get up. She must have felt him stir because she spoke to him right away making it clear she hadn't joined him in sleeping.

"Were you able to rest...peacefully...?" There was a different question there that she wasn't asking. Fenris pushed himself up to sit and he looked down at her as she studied him intently.

"What is it that worries you?" He asked directly.

Marian rested one hand on his chest and hid her face against him, curling her body up along his. "I can feel your magic." She stroked his breastbone almost with reverence. "It's inside you again, just as it should be, full and entirely yours."

Fenris was still certain he felt nothing. He could feel his lyrium moving in his skin. He could feel Marian's magic as she touched him, but that was all. He hadn't allowed himself the luxury of worrying if they had succeeded in severing Danarius's ties to him, but hearing her confirm what he couldn't feel was more a relief than he wanted to admit. He still wasn't entirely sure what, if anything, he would do with his magic, or could do with it. "I feel the same as I did before. I don't feel any different." He said, trying not to sound disappointed.

"You're magic is there, Fenris, make no mistake." She pointed a finger where she had been petting him. "But now I fear your dreams are going to be haunted by something other than Danarius. You're a mage now, free and clear, but none of us are quite so free."

He took her meaning. Demons in his dreams were not something he was unfamiliar with. If they came to him in time, then they came. He was no longer an untested youth; the childish innocence and naiveté that he imagined a demon would be drawn to were nowhere to be found inside of him. All a demon was likely to find in his soul if he had one were the old scars of those who had made their mark on him before. He would weather whatever torture or temptation they offered as he had so many other trials. But this time he would have Marian with him, which made it all seem not so daunting. He trusted in her, and that trust was an unwavering rock inside him that he could build on.

As it was, however, whatever damaged dormant magic now lay within him, it was likely not at all appealing to any demon. "You are anxious over things that may never come to pass. And even if they did, I will have you to guide me."

He could feel her blush hot against his chest at the admission of his ignorance, the deference to her experience and the acceptance of her guidance. He would lay his life at her feet to do with as she pleased. Laying his currently imaginary magic down before her was nothing to him.

It always surprised him to find that his attempts at emotional intimacy, though they seemed so woefully inept and inadequate to him, actually appeared to soothe Marian. She sighed and he felt her breath on his skin. She wrapped herself around him and made little shifting movements as if trying to feel his lyrium all over her body. The contact wiped away his fatigue. Desire swept over him and a hungry growl vibrated in his chest. He reached down to pull her up to his lips, but she abruptly stopped her languid writhing and sat up, pushing him away. She pressed her hands to his shoulders and pushed down towards the mattress. She gave him a stern look as she did it. He understood and complied. He raised his hands up and away and let them rest on the pillow above his head.

She purred in approval as she straddled him, leaning forward to drop chaste kisses down his body. Chaste if not for the direction they were taking. He tried not to move a muscle but he couldn't help the needy twitching of his cock as it hardened for her. When her mouth reached the base of his manhood, she nuzzled her nose against his abdomen and though he kept his hands above his head, he thrust his pelvis up begging for attention. Her hands pushed down on him again, this time at his hips and she made a shushing noise and shook her head, her soft black locks tickling his legs.

He watched her with a smile on his face as she made a show of running her tongue along his lyrium in every spot but where he wanted. She blew air along his thighs, along his hips making him shiver at the chill feeling it created where his skin was still wet from her kisses.

They had nothing but time, sequestered on a ship out at sea, but his need was growing urgent and he spoke her name in a scolding tone, "Marian..."

She rolled her eyes and smiled at his impatience and without another moment's hesitation she swallowed him whole and hummed against him wantonly. He nearly jerked off the bed at the sensation and the accompanying moan that escaped his mouth made Marian chuckle around his length. He couldn't control another attempt at thrusting his hips at that, but again she held him in place with one hand, as the other came to wrap around him joining her lips.

He sighed and surrendered to the pleasure of her. The heat of her mouth as it moved up and down. The soft touch of her hands, one of them working him, one of them tracing the markings on his thigh. He leaned his head back against his raised arms and closed his eyes. He breathed in and out. The slick feel of her lips. The bliss uncoiling inside his gut and quickly surging forward ready to spill out of him. The air in the room suddenly felt hot and humid, the scent of her was thick in his nostrils. His mind fogged, his thoughts scattered. Her pace quickened when she felt him harden more, readying for release. The heat of her. The bliss. Heat and bliss. Heat. Bliss...

xxxx

If Hawke didn't know the feel of his magic so well, she wouldn't have been able to act quickly enough. She was losing herself in the pleasure of the fullness of Fenris in her mouth, in his eager deep desire and his surrender to her control over his release when his magic burst forth in a blaze of mage-fire around them. It was all she could do to separate herself from their intimate embrace, throw herself on top of him and cloak them both in a protective spell as she tried with her magic to counter and contain his flames before he burned them into the sea.

When her superior skill finally won out against the wild and untrained outburst fueled by his desire, the two of them lay naked in the middle of the scorched and smoking remnants of their cabin. She looked around to make sure there was no damage bad enough to sink them. She was relieved to find it only superficial, though extensive. She looked back down at Fenris. His green eyes were wide with shock and his breathing was quick and panting, though whether it was from the climax he almost reached or the realization that his magic was alive within him she couldn't say.

He was still speechless when they heard hurried footsteps outside their door.

She let her head fall onto his chest and she laughed. They would never hear the end of this.


	42. Lesson

The crew of the Dauntless was wary of him before Seheron. After Seheron, they were intimidated. After Kirkwall, they were terrified. And rightly so. Fenris gripped the rail of the ship, squinting against the bright sky and looking out over the water. The heat of the Tevinter sun was the only thing he didn't hate right now and it showed. Everyone, including Marian, was just leaving him alone at the moment as he fumed trying to will the spires of Minrathous into view. He needed to get off this gods-forsaken ship.

He couldn't blame them all for being frightened of him. There was still a bloodstain from when he ripped a man's heart out and dropped it on the deck after all. But the bloodstain was somewhat less obvious than the burned remnants of the cabin he had set on fire with the first expression of his magic.

Magic. His magic. He was still having trouble accepting the reality of it. Unfortunately the very real, poorly timed, explosion of fire brought forth by his desire was difficult to ignore. Marian explained that strong emotions were often the impetus for a mage's first showing. She also explained the emotions involved were typically fear or anger. Of all the things in his life that had been fueled by fear and anger, he found it interesting that his magic wasn't one of them. He tried to remember the sensation of it. It happened so quickly. One moment he was savoring the feeling of Marian bringing him to climax and the next, something rose up from inside him and burst out. And it wasn't his orgasm.

He was in a stunned fog after that. He vaguely remembered Isabela screaming as she surveyed the damage he had caused. It was Merrill that kept Isabela from throwing both him and Marian overboard for setting fire to her precious ship. Everyone else who had tried to approach the pirate while she shouted curses at them almost got attacked. But the diminutive elf seemed immune to Isabela's ire as she patiently pulled her and the rest of the gathered crowd away from the smoking scene while trying not to notice that the guilty couple was still naked.

Fenris shook off the humiliating memory. He rested his gaze on the horizon and scowled at nothing in particular. One of his eyes twitched with a slightly mad new muscle tic he had acquired these past days, brought on by a multitude of frustrations. Isabela still wasn't speaking to them, though he supposed he should be grateful for that. The crew jumped nervously and whispered oaths to their Maker under their breath when he passed. The dwarf, the damned dwarf, had had a lewd smile plastered to his face since it all happened. His estranged sister had been keeping her distance from him, speaking only occasionally with Marian or Merrill, with whom she was sharing a cabin after his...accident. He told himself her avoidance was a relief, but in truth it was just another frustration, albeit one he wasn't ready to resolve just yet.

But none of those things were what was bringing him rapidly to his breaking point. And at the thought of it, the object of his torment appeared beside him. He considered walking away, leaving Marian standing there, but he caught a whiff of her scent on the breeze and he couldn't pull himself away from it. He gripped the railing harder.

Not only had he been denied his release that night because of the fire, but he had been denied every opportunity to find release since then. Marian sternly told him that until she could train him somewhere safe, on dry land, they couldn't risk his emotions unexpectedly overtaking him again, potentially causing harm. And so he had been aggravatingly, frustratingly, painfully celibate, in every way, for the entire journey thus far.

He had never hated magic so much in all his life. And that was saying something.

Marian tried to reach over and touch his hand in a comforting gesture. He knew she was suffering with him, but she seemed to be taking it better. When they bedded down each night in their new cabin, she still curled around him to sleep, and she actually did sleep. While he lay awake, sweating and grinding his teeth trying to ignore her skin touching him, her smell surrounding him, her body taunting him...

He pulled his hand away from hers and snapped at her. "Do you wish for me to strip you and take you right here? Is that want you want? If not, leave me be!" He took a step away, but didn't leave entirely. When he saw the surprise mixed with hurt on her face at his outburst he grimaced and turned his head. He rumbled and spit out a curse, landing his fist on the rail. "Rrrrghh, Fuck!"

"Swearing in Common now, are you? I must be rubbing off on you. That or we've been away from Minrathous too long." Of course she sounded amused. She always sounded amused. It was infuriating.

"Yes, Minrathous. You actually have me wanting to be there more than anything you realize?"

"You are an untrained mage," She said as she eyed him up and down. "And more volatile that I would have guessed." He wanted to argue but bit his tongue. "I need to make sure you can use your magic without killing us all. And in addition to having a perfectly comfortable mansion in our possession there, it's the only place, ironically, that we can have freedom and magic both. Also, there's still the matter of a magister I'm fairly certain is now tranquil who we need to make sure is no longer a threat; And my phylactery is still there; And the slaves I promised to free which now includes your sister." She itemized their work list on her fingers. "We'll be home soon, just be patient."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you really lecturing me about being patient?"

She ignored the accusation and rolled her eyes. "We're not lusty teenagers, Fenris. We can practice a little temporary restraint if it means not accidentally sinking the ship."

She didn't understand. But he wasn't even sure he understood enough to explain it. He had to try. "It has nothing to do with lust, Marian." Against his better judgment he reached out and grabbed her arms pulling her close enough to hear his low whisper. The warmth of her set his skin on fire and his neglected need was like an ache inside him.

"You don't understand." He tried to hide the pleading in his voice, but couldn't. "This is the longest we haven't been joined since we met. I'm having trouble..." He stumbled on the words because he was stumbling on his thoughts. "I need you. It's not about want or desire. It is...difficult to explain." He gave up and let her go, turning away. He clenched his fists, missing the feeling of her body in his hands.

He heard Marian sigh though his back was turned to her. "I understand more than you think, Fenris. I suppose I was wrong."

He turned back to her and raised an eyebrow. "Did I hear you correctly? Are you admitting that you're wrong?" He grabbed her arm before she could change her mind and tried to drag her off to their bed.

He couldn't say he was surprised when she stopped him. He felt it was worth the attempt. "I was wrong about not being lusty teenagers." She said. "You're new to love and new to magic. You might as well be an over eager adolescent."

He let her go and leaned back over to look down at the water. He realized what he was feeling wasn't difficult to explain at all. It was just difficult to admit. "I was robbed of my adolescence and with it the magic I didn't even know I had. Love was nothing to me, not even a fantasy. Until we met. You were...are...the first thing I've taken for myself. I do not wish to feel as if I'm being robbed of you as well. I've lost enough in this life."

xxxx

Hawke's heart shattered and blew away in pieces on the breeze along with her resolve. How could she have been so stupid? She had thoughtlessly imposed her own training on him. After all that she learned, she still resorted to stifling and denying him his magic along with denying him the only thing he thought to call his own.

She reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. The lyrium underneath her fingers seemed to climb upwards to meet her touch. He stood up straight and looked down at her, need burning behind his eyes. She shook her head and smiled, pulling him along with her.

They walked at an unhurried pace. She stopped to speak with Varric about nothing in particular on their way below deck. She exchanged pleasantries with Merrill. She waved at Isabela who frowned back at her. Fenris said nothing and didn't try to rush. She led him into their cabin and shut the door.

"We need to take this slowly, Fenris. And you need to tell me exactly what you're feeling."

A smug smile spread on his face and he leaned in to lick at the throbbing pulse at her neck. "You would like me to talk to you?" His mouth was hot on her skin.

She moaned involuntarily. She wasn't sure if the sound was brought forth by his kisses on her throat or the thought of him talking dirty to her. "That's not what I meant." With effort she pushed him back and looked him in the eyes. The weight of the desire in those green depths made her dizzy but she continued. "Be aware of yourself, Fenris. Be aware of what you're feeling and be in control of it. I can help better guide you if you tell me."

He leaned in again and licked her bottom lip. He slid his lips along hers, but didn't push forward. He spoke against them. "I would tell you anything."

They kissed. There was nothing urgent or hurried about it. They just kissed. She tasted his lyrium and his tongue worked against hers. They kissed until her lips were numb and her ears rang with craving. He led them over to sit on the bed. Their only point of contact was their mouths. They came up for short swallows of air intermittently always coming back into the kiss. It was a long while before he spoke again.

"Let me touch you." It was more a question than a command and he waited for an answer. She nodded her head and he slid his hands along her waist and up her sides and he continued to kiss her deeply. He pulled her into his lap and she wrapped her legs and arms around him, breathing in his breath.

She felt something spark inside him and his lyrium brightened. "Fenris..."

He leaned back and looked at her. "I..."

She imagined he couldn't put words to it yet, but he recognized it, which was progress. "Grab hold of it, Fenris and don't let it go. You control it, it doesn't control you."

He shut his eyes and paused. When he closed the thin distance between them again he was back at her neck. She started hastily pulling off his clothes, but slowed down when she felt his magic rise again. She needed to take her own advice. She pushed off of him and stood. Trying to settle herself, she took a few steps back and started removing her own clothes. He did the same while watching her intently. When they were free of encumbrance, he reached out and pulled her back down to the bed, maneuvering them so that he was stretched atop her.

More touching, more kissing with no plan and no thought to an end. She could feel his magic pulsing with his lyrium and she wondered if he could feel it too, if he even knew what he was feeling. It grew steadily as did their want for each other. Where they were usually all rushed heat and abandon, this time they were patiently savoring each touch. It was different and exquisite.

His breathing became heavy and she felt his muscles start to tense. He nuzzled her ear as he spoke in panting phrases. "Marian...Please...I need to be inside you."

She ran her fingers along the lyrium tracing his spine and it spread at her touch lighting the space around them. "Do you feel my magic?" He murmured assent against her neck. "Then join it with yours."

He twined their fingers together and pushed her arms above her head, resting his elbows on the bed. His eyes were closed in concentration as he sought entry. When he finally started pushing into her it was terribly slow, painfully slow, and it was all she could do to stop herself from thrusting her hips up and pulling him in with her legs. But she exercised her own control and let him set their pace, as he tried to do as he was told. About when she thought she would die from this incomplete ecstasy was about when she felt his magic finally push against hers. It started off hesitant and flickering. She could sense him exercising his control over it, though if the way he was still tightly gripping her fingers with his was any indication it was with great effort. She lifted her head off the bed to kiss him, but she kept her pelvis frustratingly still.

He broke the kiss. "I don't want to hurt you." His voice was soft and tremulous.

"You won't, I promise. You can let it out Fenris, just focus on your control."

He took a long deep breath and pushed all the way inside her. A gasp parted her lips but she didn't have time to breathe in again. Immediately she felt his lyrium swell with his own magic as the power of the two met and it was only then that he started thrusting into her, his magic grabbing a hold of hers and they were joined.

If she thought she knew what Fenris was before this she was wrong. So utterly ignorantly wrong. The fleeting contact with his magic in the Fade, the temporary euphoria of their bodies touching was nothing compared to the reality of this. His magic was a broad and boundless dark oblivion. It was different from anything she had ever felt. And he shocked her with the command he seemed to have over it even as his lyrium wanted to pull them both into the reckless void.

They moved against and within each other for long enough that it was Hawke who finally broke. This was bliss, this harmony, this back and forth of bodies and magic but she suddenly and desperately needed to see it to its end. She let out a long groan. "Fenris, make me come. Now. Please."

If she wasn't so consumed she would have heard him exhale in relief as he made love to her in earnest. His pace quickened and she matched him, the two of them ready for release like they had never been in their lives before. When she let the fullness of him overtake her and she came there were no words that could have described what she felt. There was just him and her and their magic.


	43. Wagers

"Merrill and Varania are coming with us."

Fenris was half asleep. Sated, relaxed, relieved. Full. Complete. He floated contentedly on the feeling of those words somewhere between his dark and empty past and the bright new horizon of his future. And she just ruined it. He peeled Marian off of his chest and swung his legs over the bed, rubbing his eyes. "What?"

"They're both coming back to the mansion with us. Merrill wants to 'help', whatever that means. She's always looking to help. She'll probably teach the slaves to read; tell them stories about the Dalish, teach them about their history. Bless her for it. At least she's directing her energy in the right places now. She has the soul of a Keeper. I'm glad she's using it."

He only paid attention to about half that speech. He knew why Marian would want to keep her seemingly overly trusting friend close by. Despite the elf's purported history with demons she was far too naïve and if left on her own in this city she would likely find herself collared and sold at the slave markets. "Why..." Varania. But he didn't say the name, letting the question just hang in the air.

"I'm not even going to humor you with an answer to that." Marian scolded. She had been gently prodding him to approach his sister the whole voyage. She might as well have been prodding at a rock for all the good it had done her thus far. Much to his displeasure, she actually started to physically prod him in the back with one finger as she continued. "She's nearly as stubborn as you. She's convinced you want nothing to do with her."

"She's right."

Marian climbed around him off the bed and held her hand up in a halting gesture. "She was going to go her own way when we arrived in Minrathous. It would have broken her heart, I could tell, but she didn't want to burden you with the past."

"She's right."

"I convinced her otherwise."

Fenris got up and dressed; his contentment spoiled for the duration of this argument. "It is not your concern."

"Your happiness is my concern, Fenris."

He wrapped his arm around her from behind and inhaled deeply against her hair. He coaxed in a deep timbre in her ear. "Then get back in bed."

She pulled his arm down and turned to face him. "It's going to take time Fenris. At least give yourself time before you shut the door on your family. I understand why you feel the way you do now, but at least imagine the possibility you might feel differently in the future."

She pushed herself up on her toes so their lips were level. His arms went around her waist as if it was their home. She gave him a steady, heavy kiss that weighed down on him, lulling him. The touch of her skin mixed with the thick magic still in the air from their lovemaking pushed back a little at his crossness. She smiled when she pulled away and brought a hand up to stroke the tapered tip of his ear. "I'm certain there was a time when you couldn't imagine this. Us. But here we are. After not much time at all."

In his mind he remained obstinate. In his heart he knew she was right. In either case he had no choice but to concede for now.

He sat back down dejectedly on the bed and carded his fingers through his hair. Annoyed at the ever growing list of responsibilities she seemed to derive reckless enjoyment from, he said, "If you bring one more stray elf into that mansion, it could be called an Alienage."

Marian snorted out a laugh. "Let's just call it home, shall we?"

xxxx

"So?" Varric came up behind her where she sat atop some crates on the deck, waiting to disembark.

"So?" Hawke parroted back at him. They had finally arrived in Minrathous at the break of an already humid dawn. Fenris was gathering their things below, wanting to be ready to escape the confines of the ship as soon as the gangplank was down. His spirits had been steadily rising with the temperature as they approached the capital. In addition to returning to his preferred climate, Hawke would guess it was also likely because they were making progress in his training. She blushed and her stomach fluttered at the thought. As pleasant as it was helping him learn about his magic through joining, she knew he would soon need to manage on his own, which they couldn't freely practice on the ship.

"So, care to bet on how long before someone tries to kill you?" Varric folded his arms and leaned against a crate. He sounded as if he was commenting on the weather.

"Ten sovereigns says I don't get both feet onto the docks."

Varric frowned. "Hm. No bet. I agree with you there."

Hawke saw no reason not to come up with something else, so she offered, "Bet on who it'll be then?"

Varric raised an eyebrow considering the proposal. "Fifteen sovereigns says the Archon sends his templars."

Unlikely, Hawke thought. That would be too direct. "Alright, I'll take that bet and I'll go my own fifteen that it'll be a concealed attack from a distance. Hired assassin. An arrow. Or maybe a poisoned dart. Wouldn't that be romantic."

"Done." Varric extended his hand and Hawke shook it.

Fenris walked up, dropping a bundle full of their weapons in front of Hawke and standing next to her on the opposite side of Varric.

"Want to get in on this action, Elf?" He questioned Fenris.

Fenris responded with a negative grunt. "I will not bet on life and death. The world is precarious enough as it is."

Hawke added to the pot. "Five more says Fenris kills someone before mid morning."

Varric's face brightened. "Make it mid afternoon and I'm in. Sword or lyrium...Ah! Or magic?"

Fenris ignored them. Hawke shrugged. "He's partial to the giant sword. Two on that."

Varric nodded. "Pleasure doing business with you, Hawke." And he walked away leaving her to look up at the seagulls swooping about the clear sky.

"It's just a bit of fun." She commented absently to Fenris. She could feel his disapproval pointing jaggedly in all directions.

"It's a bit of lunacy." He mumbled under his breath.

"Well, either way, if there's anyone we need to kill, can you try to do it before lunch? With your sword?" She was about to make another inappropriate joke about his sword when she saw Fenris's demeanor change rapidly from irritated disinterest to grim readiness.

He swore, grabbed up said sword and tossed her her daggers. "You may win at least one of those bets right now," he said.

She caught her blades and stood. She looked down the length of his greatsword to where the tip pointed at no less than ten templars led by a magister coming up the gangplank.

Hawke's eyes searched out Varric, standing at the prow next to Isabela. His eyes were a bit wide, but his smirk was suspicious. "That damn dwarf knew something!" She hissed to herself. "Down fifteen already..." She grumbled as she followed Fenris to meet their greeting party.

xxxx

Fenris bit down on the lyrium in his skin and the magic in his gut. His muscles flexed against the weight of his sword. The static steel was reassuring in its simplicity and deadly enough to use for protection without having to delve into the dynamic power of his more mystical weapons.

Marian came up behind him. She wore the countenance of a magister even if she didn't know it. Her steps were confident and precise. Her magic bold and large. Her very presence imposing and strong. He felt an inexplicable surge of pride as he watched her step ahead of him towards the party boarding the ship.

Isabela appeared beside them. The pirate frowned at him but her presence at their side betrayed her loyalty. Varric and some of the crew also came to stand near. Fenris looked at each of the templars and then at the magister that led them; an older woman with a vague expression of disdain on her face. Fenris tilted his head curiously. The group seemed as if they were...not here to fight.

"Marian." Fenris spoke her name in a low warning before she could do what she did best, attack and ask questions later. He needn't have worried because she seemed to sense the same thing he did. She shoved her daggers in her belt and folded her arms. She raised one eyebrow in a question, but didn't speak.

The magister lifted a bony hand in the air as if to silence the silent crowd. "Messere's Hawke and Fenris?" She asked politely but looking like it pained her to do so.

Fenris lowered his sword a bit and Marian looked back and him. They exchanged a wordless moment of surprise at the unexpected address. Fenris mused it was truly a deranged world they lived in that caused them to be surprised at the fact that they were not being addressed as 'Slave' and 'Apostate' respectively. He nodded his head at Marian telling her to turn back to the magister.

"Excuse me?" Marian said, likely a bit higher pitched than she would have liked.

The magister rolled her eyes and said, as if rehearsed, with a bored air, "His Excellency Archon Valen Antonius requests the presence of Messere's Hawke and Fenris...Immediately." The last word was spoken with a bit of spite more familiar to Fenris's ears than the forced politeness of the 'request'.

The woman swayed her hand behind her and the group of templars parted to open a path down the gangplank that he assumed he and Marian were expected to walk.

Marian's mouth just hung open and a dumb little sound escaped it "Ummmm..." Her eyes moved around looking at the Archon's men, looking at the magister, looking at the tops of the buildings and down the boardwalks; searching for the catch, the inevitable storm of shit that she clearly expected to befall them.

Fenris wasn't sure what this new game was they were being sucked into, but he knew refusing this request was not a possibility. Despite Marian's penchant for explosive battles and dramatic victories, some wars were won and lost by inches. If they were about to be dragged into a war with the Imperial establishment, then they had to be prepared to dig in, play the game, and pray they would come out an inch ahead.

He swung his sword around to its place on his back and rested a hand on Marian's shoulder. "He wants something other than our heads, Marian. Otherwise we would be floating in the sea."

The magister sneered at him. "Indeed..." He was certain she meant to add 'Slave' to the end of that but she caught herself. "Do you come or do I send his Excellency your regrets?" The woman smiled an underhanded smile, obviously wanting to see what would happen if they declined the Archon's summons.

Marian turned to Varric. "Will you take Merrill and Varania to the mansion?"

"Of course Hawke, but are you sure you don't want some...company?" The dwarf stroked his crossbow suggestively.

"Thanks, Varric, but we'll be okay. Isabela you'll have Varric give you whatever you need from my accounts to pay for your repairs, right?"

"And then some, Hawke." The pirate replied and turned to walk away, but before she left them she brushed close to Marian and Fenris's sharp ears heard her whisper. "You and the Elf be safe Hawke, or else."

Marian nodded at her friend then slipped her arm through Fenris's. He instinctively put his other hand on top of hers. "Lead the way then." She said to the magister.

"Very well." The woman replied, not able to hide her disappointment.

Fenris led Marian to follow behind their escorts, their arms still entwined. The magister's gaze lingered on the point of contact between them and seemed like she wanted to spit in disgust. Fenris gripped his woman tighter and pulled her closer while offering a self-satisfied smirk to the disapproving magister.

Marian saw the interaction and said softly, "We haven't been back for even an hour and already we seem to have new enemies. I'll wager the sun doesn't set before we've made a few more."

Fenris took a deep breath. The trepidation he felt in his gut was something in between the old fear of the magisterial machine that was Tevinter and his new conviction that as long as he held onto Marian no darkness could touch them. He surprised himself when he replied, casting aside the mantle of his well worn pessimism. "I'll take that bet."


	44. Sparring

Hawke sat awkwardly on a bench resting her head against the wall. Her mouth hung open as she watched a delicate little spider climb up its web that was hanging from the potted plant next to her. She was so bored she was surprised she wasn't drooling.

"Uuuhhh..." She moaned as she exhaled the breath she'd been holding, just to see how long she could do it.

"Do. Not. Start." Fenris threatened her from where he stood, next to the potted plant. Arms crossed. Brooding. Or Annoyed. She realized on him they looked very much the same.

"Fenris, we've been here for hours." She whined.

"Do you think your relentless complaining will make time pass faster?"

"Why are we even waiting at all? Weren't we summoned 'immediately'?" She changed her voice in mockery of the magister who had escorted them up the spire and deposited them in this room to wait. "No one else has even come through here." She stood and gestured at the empty space around them. "What could he possibly be busy doing for all this time?"

Fenris sat and hung his head in his hands, speaking to the floor with a pained weariness in his voice. "He rules an empire, Marian. There are a great many things that he is likely 'busy doing'."

She flopped herself back down on the bench next her adorably irritated elf. "Let's practice."

He raised his head and gave her a suspicious sidelong glare. "What?"

"Let's practice your magic. While we wait." She could tell she was getting on his last nerve, but unfortunately for him that made this all the more entertaining.

She felt him suppress a flare of his lyrium. He responded to her with an even and emotionless tone, but she knew him well enough to hear what was hidden underneath it. A bit of frustration, a bit of arousal. "We are not practicing here."

"Not like that, love...although that would be more fun." She licked her lips and briefly indulged in a minor fantasy involving exhibitionism. "I mean on your own. You're ready to try. It'll pass the time. And if you burn down the spire...oh well." She shrugged innocently.

"No. Now please stop speaking."

Hawke weighed the risks and benefits of disobeying him. She was usually compelled to do what he asked of her out of love if nothing else, but at the moment her very bored and idle imagination was moving in directions that made her think some punishment for disobedience might be deliciously fun. And she seemed to have driven him into that kind of mood.

Sadly, she didn't manage to find out what would have happened if she leaned on his temper anymore because the main doors to the chamber swung open. They revealed a young mousey looking human boy who addressed them, but didn't look up at them. With his eyes to the floor and while wringing his hands nervously he said, "This way, p-p-please." He pointed down the steps behind him.

"Down the stairs?! Why, for Maker's sake, were we brought up the stairs to begin with then!?" Hawke didn't really mean to yell at the poor lad. He was probably a page or someone's young apprentice and certainly didn't deserve her exasperation, but she really couldn't have helped it at this point. "I..." She opened her mouth to continue shouting off her excess energy when Fenris grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her forcefully behind him, the motion snapping her jaw shut.

He stomped to the doors waving on the boy with his other hand and ordered him, "Lead!" The boy jumped and nearly ran down the steps trembling the entire way.

Not only did they go all the way back down to ground level, but they kept descending from there to a sprawling basement complex underneath the spire. Their escort was practically running in an effort to either keep his distance from Fenris who was still dragging Hawke along or to be done with what he obviously considered to be an unpleasant task.

The boy eventually brought them into a large room with a high ceiling. Pillars skirted around a floor covered with woven mats. A man stood alone in the center. As they wound their way around the pillars, he came into full view. He was of an average height for a northerner with pale blond hair falling straight down his back. He wore only thin loose fitting pants and sweat glistened over his fit form that was neither slim nor broad. Interestingly, there was a tattoo of a scorpion boldly carved into the skin at the top corner of his chest in black ink. The man was practicing forms with a quarterstaff. He moved with an enviable contrast of youthful energy and mature grace.

Fenris stopped them at the edge of the mats and let go of Hawke's arm. He shifted once on his feet before dropping down to one knee and bowing his head. Hawke almost followed suit. But she had never bent her knee to anyone, not even the Warden King who she respected greatly. She saw no reason to start now. In a compromise between her pride and her precarious situation she bowed at the waist, but kept her eyes trained ahead of her.

The boy walked a few steps in front of them until he caught the Archon's attention. The ruler of the Imperium nodded his head at the boy who bowed low then hurried away, leaving them alone. The Archon walked slowly over to Fenris and Hawke, carrying his tall staff. It was unremarkable wood, Hawke noted, absent any enchantments; just a blunt weapon, nothing more.

She maintained her bow but kept her eyes fixed on his. They were grey and clear. He looked impossibly young. But Hawke felt neither the brazen flashes of immature magic nor the smoothness of an adept mage. She felt nothing from him.

Fear and curiosity fought inside her. She suddenly felt very exposed. The room was entirely silent, but she had never felt so loud in her life. Her magic was ringing in tune with the lyrium song and the low drum beat of Fenris's magic. The Archon was either able to conceal his magic entirely or his powers were unlike anything in Hawke's experience. The possibility of either circumstance was something she hadn't come here expecting. It made her uncomfortable and she wondered what Fenris was feeling from where he kneeled.

Valen Antonius stopped before them and spoke. "Stand." A soft and unassuming voice. Hawke wanted to say it sounded gentle but in the presence of this mage with silent magic she was suddenly very unsure of her own instincts.

She straightened and deliberately held her chin high, refusing to break eye contact. Fenris rose and Hawke latched onto the familiar feeling of his deft and controlled movements and the hum of his lyrium. It cleared her head enough for her to be able to even out her breathing which she hadn't realized had become fast.

His eyes left Hawke and moved to Fenris. He leaned on his staff, a smile on his face and looked the elf up and down. He held out the staff to him. "Spar with me." He said calmly.

Fenris only hesitated for a moment before he relieved himself of his greatsword, laying it on the floor behind them, and took up the staff that was offered. The Archon turned away and walked across the mats to take up another staff that was leaned against one of the pillars.

Hawke looked on as the two men circled each other. Fenris spun his staff around his body effortlessly, his measured steps barely seeming to touch the floor. It wasn't as though Hawke had never seen him fight before, but being able to just observe without the urgency of imminent death made all the difference. She pursed her lips trying to stop a grin from spreading on her face as she watched his body move with the first attacks.

The clap of the wooden weapons hitting together in a few test blows echoed against the pillars. She tilted her head taking in the fluid movements of her elf and her cheeks burned as she wondered if this is what he looked like when he made love to her.

She snapped out of her reverie when she heard the Archon gasp as he jumped out of the way of a downward swing from Fenris that fell harmlessly down to the mats. Hawke blinked a few times and shook her head. Never was there a more inappropriate time to get caught up in fantasy. They were in the middle of an audience with the Imperial Archon. Odd though this audience may be at the moment, it was still fraught with uncertainty and potential peril for both of them, especially since she found herself still unable to formulate any kind of strategic impression of this man.

She cursed Fenris for being so damned distracting and attempted to focus her attention on the Archon instead. He maneuvered easily around the fighting space, wielding the staff with obviously practiced ease. Fenris would advance and he would defend or avoid and counter. They danced around each other and matched each other step for step. It was obvious that Fenris's goal was not winning. If it was, the match would be over already and, if the elevated power of an Archon came with elevated hubris, they would possibly be dead. That being said, Hawke thought to herself, the Archon seemed to be doing the same thing as Fenris. He was clearly no stranger to martial combat, and though Hawke was still certain Fenris would have the advantage in a real fight, it was likely the Archon could still do a significant amount of damage even without magic.

Fenris spun, extending the staff out in a wide arc aimed at Antonius's midsection, but he jumped straight up and over the weapon clearing it and landing back down on his feet. The combatants each reversed their steps a few paces to regroup and they circled one another again. The Archon tilted his head towards Hawke to address her, but his eyes never left Fenris even as he spoke.

"Danarius is dead." He said, not even seeming out of breath.

Hawke didn't know if that was a question or a statement. She glanced briefly at Fenris who kept his eyes trained on his opponent. No help there.

"Danarius is dead." She repeated, trying to use the same cadence.

The Archon pivoted and tried to sweep Fenris's feet out from under him. Fenris pushed his staff into the floor and used it to vault over Antonius. They again retreated to neutral corners and circled.

"The two of you are not how Loranus described." Again, spoken with a lack of inflection.

"He didn't really take the time to get to know us." Hawke's eyes went wide at her own stupidity. Now was the worst possible time for flippant retorts, but it just came out before she could stop herself. She could feel Fenris's disapproval shooting out like flames from his eyes. What was done was done however, so she thought perhaps she could chance a bold inquiry on the back of her bold comment. "Where is the honored Executor, Excellency?" She tried her best to make it sound genuine and respectful. Two qualities that were perhaps as foreign to her as patience.

Fenris took that moment to swing again and landed a blow against the Archon's staff which was brought up in defense.

"I killed him." Antonius replied, his staff still locked with Fenris's.

Fenris withdrew and made a show of slowly spinning the staff over and over in his hands before him, a motion that he was likely using to disguise any surprise he might have felt at the statement. Hawke had no such object to fidget with, so she somewhat inelegantly covered her shocked gasp with a cough. The Archon glanced at her briefly, raising his eyebrow, before his eyes went back to Fenris. The human charged forward at the elf, staff raised and Fenris had to jump back and lift his own staff to defend against the blow this time. Antonius tried to counter but Fenris dropped down and rolled out of reach, quickly recovering his stance in the time it took the Archon to turn and face him again.

"You spoiled him." He said, and Hawke saw no hint of emotion in his impassive grey eyes. He continued as he ducked under another of Fenris's half-hearted blows. "It was regrettable, but what you did to him was a risk I had taken into consideration, so I was prepared for the eventuality."

Hawke couldn't believe what she was hearing. The man had actually planned for the possibility that Crasta would end up tranquil? How was that possible when even she hadn't considered it a possibility until she practically felt the slimy bastard's dragon fire on her neck?

The Archon charged Fenris again, but this time something had changed. His face tightened somehow, his demeanor hardened. He launched a flurry of attacks and Fenris was forced to step up his game as well to meet them. The two men were a blur of cracking wood and lithe muscle. They matched each other equally, or so it seemed. Fenris kept his lyrium silent and his magic even more so, using only the flesh the Maker gave him to counter the many and varied blows from the Archon. The display was riveting and if Hawke wasn't so disturbed by the inexplicable and confusing scene she would have thought to appreciate the utterly masculine beauty of what she was witnessing.

And then suddenly they stopped. Staves engaged and crossed between their now sweating brows. The muscles of their arms were flexed with effort, but both of their faces were stoic. Hawke was about to step in and do something, anything to redirect this entire interaction into something less horribly uncomfortable and unpredictable, but Fenris acted first. He pulled his staff back, spun it around gracefully and placed it at the Archon's feet. He stepped back and got down on one knee again as if to yield the match.

Hawke was taken aback by the action. Not because she was surprised that Fenris would yield a fight; she was surprised that Fenris would turn yielding a fight into a very political move. Which is exactly what she realized it was. He was doing what was expected; an appropriate gesture of deference to the man who ruled over the very air they were currently breathing.

And the gambit seemed to work, because the Archon showed his first trace of...something. Satisfaction? Approval? Hawke couldn't tell, but there was something different in the line of his mouth and the glint in his eyes. He lowered his staff, turned from Fenris and walked away to fetch a towel that was neatly folded in the far corner of the room. Fenris rose and walked back to where Hawke stood. They immediately sought out each other's eyes. The striking green that stared back at her was practically screaming out one word. Caution. She raised one eyebrow at Fenris. Obviously! Her eyes shouted back. Don't you have anything more useful to say? She added. He scowled.

Antonius had laid down his staff and came over to them wiping casually at his brow. He addressed Fenris this time, a business-like tone now present in his voice. "I find myself without an Executor so I had one of my ministers take care of arranging your emancipation papers. With the seal of the Archon you need not appear before a judge." He threw his towel down to the floor and faced Fenris eye to eye. Hawke suddenly realized they were the exact same height. As he continued speaking he was clearly gauging their reactions. "And as the assassination of Danarius was sanctioned, and incidentally appreciated," he paused briefly after the word as if waiting for something; looking for something. Hawke had no idea what it was, but it was clear he was looking for something in them. "I have also arranged for the transfer of his holdings to you."

Hawke saw Fenris's stoic mask actually falter. "To Magister Hawke?" Fenris tried to correct him.

"Did I say that? Was I speaking to her? I said to you. Danarius was without an heir. And even if he had an heir, it would be unsafe to allow them to continue living. Fortunately that isn't the case. I believe enough mages have died for the moment, don't you agree?" He looked away briefly and said almost to himself, "Yet the moments pass so quickly." Then his authoritative eyes were back on Fenris. "His senate seat, however, will remain unfilled until I decide to do otherwise with it."

Hawke actually had to cover her mouth in a feigned pensive gesture to prevent an unbidden inappropriately silly giggle from escaping her. This was the most bizarre and unexpected interaction she'd ever had in her life. Yet for all the pleasantries and apparent favors being given she felt as if the strands of danger weaving through this engagement were slowly being drawn into a stranglehold around them. She searched out Fenris trying to will him to look her way. When he finally did, all she saw on his face was a totally unreadable grim shadow.

Antonius, their new apparent benefactor, continued. "I'm going to assume you will be apprenticing yourself to Magister Hawke. From what I understand she has skills enough to be more than adequate in teaching you what you need to know to be a productive member of our society. When she deems your training complete and you join our circle I suppose you could petition for your former master's place in the Magisterium. Stranger things have happened. You might be a useful addition. Then again, the other magisters might just descend on you like a pack of rabid jackals and end any such aspirations before you even think to have them. Difficult to say."

Both Hawke and Fenris remained silent; neither sure exactly how to play this new game.

"As for you, Magister Hawke, I've inherited direct control over the very valuable commodity of your blood from my deceased right hand."

The bluntness of his statement hit Hawke in the face as if he had hit her with his staff. She saw Fenris clench his fists, but amazingly he still kept a tight rein on his lyrium.

"In retrospect, I should have had it directly in my keeping all along."

Soft footsteps approached from behind them. The older woman who brought them to the spire appeared and bowed to the Archon. "Excellency." She said in greeting. When she straightened she looked over to Hawke and Fenris. She made no effort to conceal the venom in her gaze.

Antonius spoke to the woman, with a hint of haughty impatience. "I'm nearly done. Please leave us."

Without saying another word and without bowing again, the woman left leaving behind a waft of bitterness in the air.

The Archon spoke to Hawke again. "The next session of the senate approaches soon and I will expect you to be in attendance as is one of your new duties. I've arranged for a delivery to your manor; some things that will be of help to you in...acclimatizing yourself." He chose the word carefully.

As a final cryptic farewell, the Archon walked past them and smiled. Genuine? Devious? Mocking? There was no way for Hawke to tell. "Welcome to our humble brotherhood, Magister Hawke. Good day." And the ruler of an empire left them both standing there in his wake with more questions and nameless fears than they came in with.


	45. Damaged

"Maybe I'm not being clear, Hawke. Allow me to explain." Fenris let Varric talk, while he continued staring into the fire in the library.

The humid air had cooled and the sun had just set when they finally arrived home.

Home.

His home held a library and a fire. It held books he could read and a bed to rest in and a woman he loved. And at the moment, it also held a dwarf who he had to admit he considered a friend. He wondered if one could only trust a friend to thoroughly read all the private documents that had been delivered to one's home; or if only a friend could get away with it.

He heard Varric slap down a stack of those 'private' documents in front of Marian where she sat at the desk. His home also held a wine cellar. Marian sighed and filled her glass from a dusty bottle taken from that cellar then she rose to fill his glass too, emptying the bottle into it. The first of many they would empty tonight, he imagined. True to his word the Archon had sent over a large number of things for Marian to look over as well as an official accounting of Fenris's bizarre inheritance.

"You see, Broody over there," Varric began the promised explanation and pointed to where Fenris stood leaning against the large stone mantle, "is rich. And when I say he's rich I mean something different than when I say you're rich."

Marian set the empty bottle back on the desk and sat down again. "Mm?" She seemed tired but was letting Varric continue, her tolerance for mundane paperwork helped by the wine.

"You're what we call 'Fereldon-rich', Hawke." The dwarf paced the room, making an expressive show with his hands as he spoke as if he was telling a story to a child. "You could buy a holdfast in the Bannorn for example. Maybe a minor title. Make a nice wife for an Arl's son." Marian gave him a skeptical look. "You know, if it wasn't for the whole...mage...thing." Varric countered and waved her off.

Fenris narrowed his eyes, not liking the direction this conversation was going. Varric coughed then redirected. "Now Fenris, on the other hand, he's what we call 'Tevinter-rich'. It's an entirely different concept."

"Are you saying he's got more coin than me now?" There was amusement in Marian's voice. She smiled widely at Fenris, and it had a mischievous slant to it. He sipped his wine and rolled his eyes as he looked away from her.

"You could buy some land in Fereldon." Varric said deadpan. "He could buy Denerim. He could buy and sell you Hawke. And considering where we are, I mean that literally." He folded his arms and looked up at Fenris. "Now I know this begs more than one question about the Archon's motives. I also know you both said you didn't trust him, but I have to tell you, I can't see any possible way it could benefit him to fast-track your emancipation and sign a fortune in gold and holdings over to you. It's not as if he was under any obligation, legal or otherwise. If you want my advice just take what he's given you. No matter what, you're safer with money than without."

"I don't think money ever helped me all that much, Varric." Marian downed her glass in one go, her eyes having darkened and the amusement gone from her voice.

"As I'm trying to tell you, you never had his kind of coin."

Fenris still hadn't spoken. He too emptied his glass and rolled the velvety liquid in his mouth. There were many things he should be thinking about right now. Countless things to cause concern; worries that should be addressed, problems that needed to be solved. And yet...And yet he drank wine and stared into a fire and innocently looked forward to retiring to bed. His bed, in his home, with his Marian. Was this how every other free man in the city was spending the final hours of the day? Every other free man in Thedas? Drinking wine and putting off what trials there were yet to face until tomorrow.

Putting things off necessitated planning for a tomorrow. Knowing it would come, and knowing there would be another after that, and then another. And all of them his own. There was never going to be another Master taking possession of his days, or even threatening to. There was only him, his days and what he chose to do with them. Freedom was no longer an abstraction. It was a glass of wine and a tomorrow.

Varric waved a folded piece of parchment at him and he just looked at the dwarf with what was probably a vacant expression. Varric shook the parchment until Fenris took it. "The only problem I've seen so far is that I'm not sure if this document is correct. It's the only one pertaining to freeing a slave but it doesn't mention you, Elf. The 'property' name listed is different."

Fenris straightened and stared at the paper in his hand but he didn't open it. He realized immediately what Varric did not. This document absolutely pertained to him and it represented several things. Many, many heavy, weighty things in fact. But what all of those important things came down to was a choice. Perhaps the first choice of any meaning on his first official day of freedom. In his hands he held a forgotten bit of his past. This parchment held his name. His real name. He could choose to tear it open eagerly and learn something about himself that wasn't tainted by the ugly memories of slavery. Or he could set it aside and put it off until tomorrow. It was his choice. The world seemed suddenly so much less urgent and so much more simple.

"Fenris isn't my given name," he said. The crackle of the fire punctuated his words. "It is just what Danarius called me. His 'little wolf'. I don't remember what my name was before. The name listed here is probably it." He stared down at the paper, thinking on what he was going to do. Should he learn his name now, or learn it at another time of his choosing?

Quite unexpectedly, the choice was taken from him.

"Your given name was Leto." Varania stood in the doorway to the library. She held her chin up and looked at Fenris with unblinking green eyes. "But you stopped being Leto when you received those markings."

The paper in his hand crumpled a little as he clenched it into a fist. Marian and Varric's presence in the room was forgotten and only brother and sister existed in a twisted kind of family moment, staring at each other and spilling out emotions into the air that might have been better left bottled up.

"I begged you not to compete for them, Leto." Her voice had grown a little wild as if she was finally letting go of a secret torment. That name, his name, rolled off of her tongue so easily he realized she had to concentrate all this time to not use it and call him 'Fenris' instead.

Right now he didn't want to hear either name coming from her lips. "Stop calling me that!" Fenris met her torment with anger.

She took a step forward into the room, towards where he stood. Her hands were balled up at her sides nervously wringing at the skirts of her worn dress. "I should have done more. I should have done anything to stop you." Perhaps she couldn't see past her years of guilt at his sacrifice to realize she shouldn't be forcing this interaction, but neither could he see past his anger to intellectualize her motivations.

"Why are you telling me these things?" He demanded through gritted teeth that didn't quite hold back the pain that slipped through. He tossed the parchment aside, not caring where it landed.

"Because these are the things that were taken from you that you deserve to have back...that you deserve to know." Varania's reply was defiant against the acerbic turn his mood had taken.

"I deserve to be given the choice!" He shouted, having unconsciously moved so close to her he spit the words in her face.

She looked right at him, tears pooling in wide green eyes that looked so familiar he hated them. She opened her mouth to speak again and it proved too much for him to take. Before she could actually talk he raised his hand as if to strike her. She saw it coming and instead of words a frightened squeak of a cry escaped her, green eyes flinching, frail hands coming up between them, trembling. She shrunk back so quickly, so sharply it was then that he saw it. He stepped away and lowered his hand. The blow never fell.

Fenris finally saw in his sister what he should have known was there the moment he first saw her in Kirkwall, dying in her own blood with a collar around her neck. She was just as damaged as he was. Just as beaten, just at broken. Freedom had been no boon for her as, ultimately, her life had circled back around to slavery. And he knew only too well what she likely suffered at the hands of the very same Master he had escaped from. She was a sad jumble of emotion and fear and it sickened him a bit to realize it reminded him of himself. Or at least the Fenris that existed before Marian. He shuddered and tried to push away the thoughts of the dark path his life would have taken if not for the light Marian had put into him and helped him cultivate. Having her was something he could build on, and was building on slowly, repairing the broken framework of his life in the context of her love.

His sister didn't have that. Her life was still a heap of brittle fear, festering hate and emotional disrepair. She had even less an idea on how to build a path back to a relationship with her family than he did and it was clear the both of them were making a total mess of it.

His anger fled. Without it, he felt more exposed than he was comfortable with in front of the eerie mirror of his sister's eyes. Fenris hung his head and took a deep breath. He realized he still had a choice.

With that thought, Fenris chose to walk out of the library and go to bed. He chose not to look at his sister as he passed. It was his choice for now. But there was always tomorrow.


	46. Entropy

Several days had passed since Fenris learned his real name. Nothing more was said about it by anyone. Fenris had been keeping to himself. More so than usual, which meant the only outward interaction he had with the world was making love to Hawke in the night, but even those encounters had taken on a contemplative quality when they were typically prone to lust filled urgency. In the days, he drank wine and looked at a fire, or looked out a window, not quite brooding but not quite lighthearted either. Hawke might have been worried about the drinking if she hadn't noticed that his consumption was as measured and controlled as everything else he did. She was certain she could still drink him under the table if it came to that, but his goal didn't seem to be getting drunk. He just sipped and pondered and sipped and pondered. Orana brought his meals directly to him, without having been asked, wherever in the mansion he happened to be sipping wine and pondering. Sometimes Hawke would let him eat alone; sometimes she would silently join him.

Fenris's introspective interlude did give her the opportunity to thoroughly read through all of the documents the Archon had sent. Her attention to the task was reluctant at best, but if Fenris had been of a mind to comment she knew he would have goaded her into it eventually anyway. Her reading assignment consisted mostly of the rules and regulations of the senate, when and where she was expected to be present and the more commonplace responsibilities that fell to the members of the Magisterium. A docket was provided for the upcoming session, listing items to be debated and voted upon. Unsurprisingly, instructions on what exactly her vote should be were included. Thankfully, none of it had to do with blood magic or slavery or any of the number of things that had the potential to stir up Hawke's moral superiority over these maleficarum. Her conscience could rest easy putting in her vote to divert government funds to fix this bridge or repair that sewer line, to appoint more workers to this tax office or that ministry or to bolster the northern defenses against the Qunari.

During this time, Varric was taking care of his own business, whatever that entailed. Hawke was sure it was better she didn't know. And Isabela was busy with repairs to her ship. She was starting to get bored and nothing good ever came from that. She thought to seek out her two houseguests, but then thought better of it. For more reasons than one.

Hawke hadn't seen Varania since the night they arrived when she and Fenris had their argument. It appeared that she was keeping to herself as well. Orana told her she and Merrill had set themselves up in a large room on the third floor that faced the garden. Room. Singular. And it wasn't for lack of space.

Hawke briefly questioned the wisdom of an intimate relationship between those two, each with their own troubled past, but when considering the fact that she and Fenris had fallen into bed together after less than a week's acquaintance she couldn't really judge. And 'pasts' didn't get any more troubled than what they had had to deal with so maybe the two women stood a chance after all. Every possibility existed that Varania would be just like her brother and when she fell in love it would be unexpected, but deep and complete. She hoped so. Maker knows Varania could use a bit of what Fenris had with Hawke.

One morning Hawke woke up in bed alone. Fenris was almost always awake before her, but he usually waited in bed, content to lay with her until she awoke as well. She rose, curious to see what had drawn him from her side. Wrapped in a bed sheet, she shuffled downstairs following the pull of his lyrium song. It led her to a small study where she knew Varric had set aside the accounting of Fenris's new fortune, the details of which Fenris had yet to review himself. And that was where she found him, doing exactly that.

His face was pinched into a frown as he studied the scattered papers on the desk and in each of his hands. He looked up at Hawke where she hovered in the doorway. "Will you help me with a few of these words?" He asked her.

She nodded and together they muddled through several esoteric legal terms. She could certainly read them to him, but she didn't understand them until Fenris translated into Trade for her. When he had no more questions, she curled up in the chair opposite him.

He leaned back, fingers tented over his chest. "We must go to Danarius's estate." He said it like a man pleading with his Maker to absolve him of a terrible duty.

"You mean your estate." She corrected him.

He sat up with a sharp retort. "I would just as soon see the place burned to ash. However," he slouched in his chair, "there are things...people...there that need to be addressed."

Hawke chuckled unable to keep from teasing him. "So what you're saying is that there are slaves there, elves presumably? Will we be bringing them back to our 'Alienage' then? The more the merrier you know. There's still a fair amount of space here. Varania and Merrill are only taking the one room..." she clapped her mouth shut, not meaning to mention Varania at all, let alone allude to any of her private business.

Of course Fenris picked up on it. "Come again?"

It seemed brothers were overprotective of sisters even if they weren't speaking to each other. Hawke wasn't going to lie to him just to spare them from another uncomfortable family interaction. They were all adults, they would learn to cope. "It seems that the two of them grew to be close on the ship." Now to put it in a positive light, she thought. She could see the protesting words forming in his mind. Words like 'blood mage' and 'dangerous'. She had to intercept them before they took root. "Frankly, I think it's quite nice if they find happiness in each other. Merrill is very devoted in her own way and perhaps it will benefit your sister to be the recipient of that devotion. I imagine Merrill would like to finally settle down. She's had an occasional dalliance with Isabela in the past, but Isabela isn't exactly good material for a serious relationship."

A disgusted scowl formed on Fenris's face. "Is there anyone the pirate hasn't bedded?"

Hawke decided to take that as rhetorical and didn't answer. Fenris said nothing further about Varania's choice in lovers. Hawke couldn't decide if that was a victory, or just a stay of execution. He brought the discussion back to the business of managing Danarius's former belongings. "I've put this off too long already. I must go today. Will you come?"

Hawke was amazed he still thought he had to ask her these things. She'd follow him into a dragon's belly like a Mabari at his heels and she was sure he would do the same for her. She gathered her sheet around her body and rose. She extended one hand out to him in affirmation and together they went about getting ready for what promised to be a long day ahead.

Fenris seemed to have overcome whatever inertia it was that had him inactive the past few days. They ate breakfast in the kitchen. Several of the servants passed through and made sure they were taken care of. Though Hawke got more than one curious glance at the bed sheet she was wearing, no one commented. She found a warm comfort in the fact that her new household was beginning to accept what must appear to them to be an astonishing set of eccentricities from their 'mistress'. She hoped that meant they were slowly beginning to accept that things for them could be different, which was the first step in accepting freedom. But she wouldn't rush them. Fenris had taught her that too. They would come to it in their own time.

After eating, they went to dress, but they were intercepted by Orana, her arms full of clothes. She held them out to Fenris. He just stared at her, not really helping the interaction along. "These are for you sir." The girl offered shyly. "Messere Varric..."

Fenris interrupted and said a bit too harshly, "I do not want to hear that the dwarf bought me clothes. That is far too disturbing." He tried to walk past her but she stepped quickly to block his path and held out the clothes again.

"No, he didn't sir. Well, he wanted to but then no one wanted to ask you about taking your measurements, so your sister offered to make them herself, she said she once worked as a tailor, so he just had me go and buy the fabrics, and they were all just so lovely, and now several pieces are done and ready for you and so quickly too, so I'll just go set them out, shall I?"

Orana stopped rambling and scurried into their bedroom. Fenris stared with an open-mouthed looked of confusion touched by annoyance. Hawke couldn't hold back her laugher. She patted him on the back and trotted after Orana. "Come on, love. It's not so bad. You liked my new clothes, remember?" Well, he had liked taking them off of me at least, she thought to herself, same thing. She imagined she was going to quite enjoy the reverse now if he looked even half as good in noble attire as he did in his armor.

She wasn't left anticipating for very long. Hawke dressed quickly and waited for Fenris in the main hall. She had decided to forgo carrying her staff, but still had her daggers on her hips. Similarly, Fenris had decided to forgo his greatsword in favor more a more discrete pair of daggers of his own. Hawke's eyes moved from the daggers to the rest of him as he descended the steps. She had to swallow down a very unbecoming squeal of...something; some sudden, entirely too excited, infantile burst of emotion better suited to an adolescent girl than a worldly woman. But swallow it down she did, if only just, barely saving her from an embarrassing display of...well...squealing...and clapping, there had been potential for giddy clapping at the sight of her elf looking nothing if not damned delicious in meticulously fitted noble attire.

She bit her lip trying to hold in any humiliating noises, and tried to ignore the uncomfortable wetness gathering in her smallclothes. Fenris looked at her from behind the haphazard strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. She was obviously struggling to contain herself, but he seemed to misinterpret. "What?" he asked defensively.

Hawke gathered her pride and responded with the best attempt at detached disinterest she could muster. "Nothing. You look quite good, is all."

He came up close and leaned over her to look into her eyes, wide like a halla's caught in the path of a runaway cart. He saw all he needed to see and when a smug smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, Hawke just huffed and looked away. "Let's just go already!" She exclaimed and walked to the door. When he didn't follow her, she looked back at him.

He was staring at the tiles of the floor. Each hand gripped the hilt of a dagger where they rested in his belt. He stood like that for a moment, looking conflicted. He frowned and let out a long breath, then turned and marched back up the stairs.

Hawke waited. When he finally came back down again, he had Varania in tow. Their faces were amazingly similar and totally unreadable. And neither of them was volunteering any insight to Hawke. She did note that Varania looked rested and she had cut her hair. The bright red locks were cropped short showing off her high cheekbones that now had the start of a healthy flush on them. Whether from sleep, food or love, it didn't really matter why, just that it was there.

"Let's go." Fenris said gruffly and he walked past Hawke through the door, Varania close behind him. Hawke smiled to herself, and followed them.

xxxx

It took more than half the morning to walk to Danarius's manor. Hawke took her cue from the siblings and all three of them were silent the whole way there. Sometimes Fenris would walk ahead of the women and they would proceed single file, sometimes he would slow and walk side by side with Hawke, falling in step with her.

The sprawling estate was still in the city, but it was set apart from even the high class neighborhoods in a district that seemed to house only a few similar exceptionally rich villas. Hawke found herself gawking as they passed through the main gates. Behind the high walls separating the grounds from the streets there was a huge and imposing mansion surrounded by manicured gardens and several outbuildings, some of which she was sure were larger than her old mansion in Kirkwall.

She turned round and round as they walked a serpentine path to the main house. Her mouth hung open like some provincial country cousin on her first visit to town. Varania walked closely behind her brother. Fenris's aura had visibly darkened upon arrival. He held a set of keys in his hand, his knuckles white and the lyrium in his fingers glowing where they gripped the metal ring.

Hawke hurried to keep up. When they were a little further down the path, two well-groomed Mabari came running from across the lawns barking. They stopped in front of Fenris and growled. He didn't slow his pace at all, not even acknowledging their snarls. Just when he stepped within their striking distance, the beasts shrunk back on their hind legs whining and they parted, allowing him to pass. Hawke stared at the dogs in wonder. Could they smell that Fenris was their new master? Or could they smell that no matter who he was it was wiser for them to back away?

The next residents they encountered were two elves, one older, one younger. They both wore wide hats shading their eyes from the sun as they worked trimming a bed of greenery. They looked up at the trio. The young one didn't seem to pay much attention, he just bowed slightly in what was likely a conditioned response to guests, not even really noticing who he was bowing to. The older man had an entirely different reaction. He removed his hat and squinted his eyes against the sun to study them then his jaw dropped along with his hat and his gardening tools. Some kind of shocked gasp escaped him and he grabbed at the sleeve of the younger elf pulling him a few steps back from the path well away from Fenris as he passed them. Hawke noticed that Fenris quickened his pace, but he didn't react otherwise.

Hawke was starting to feel uneasy. Varania's lips were pursed and she was clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides, just like her brother did though Hawke knew that he wasn't always aware that he did it. She was so close to Fenris's back it almost seemed like she was trying to hide in his shadow. Fenris strode up to the massive front doors and opened them with his keys. He hesitated for just a moment at the threshold and then stepped inside.

Hawke adjusted her eyes to the dim light of the interior. Again she stared agape at the opulence of her surroundings. No one was in the entryway to greet them immediately but the sound of the doors being opened must have stirred some kind of response because she heard footsteps in a distant corridor that grew louder as they approached.

A grey haired elf entered the hall cradling a large ceramic basin full of water and she had towels draped over her arms. She bowed her head down to the marble floor while she quickly moved to rest the basin onto its stand making it ready for the 'guests' to wash their hands. She briefly glanced up at them. A cursory look, nothing more, but it was enough. Her eyes bulged from their sockets and she cried out. The basin fell from her arms and shattered on the floor. A thin wave of water spilled forth and broke itself against Fenris's boots.

There was an awkward silence as the shocked cry died out against the tapestried walls and vaulted ceiling. Hawke heard more footsteps rushing towards them from various corners of the mansion. Several elves appeared from behind doors and emerged from hallways. About half had reactions similar to the woman. The remainder just looked nervously back and forth, searching for guidance. Maker's breath but she was stupid! Hawke hadn't even considered there might be slaves here that knew Fenris from when he still served Danarius. Were they scared of him? Scared for him? Just scared because they were slaves and they needed no better reason?

Fenris stepped forward. Varania shrank back closer to Hawke. Of course most of them would likely know Varania also, but seeing her would be a lesser shock than seeing Fenris, Hawke guessed.

"The steward." Fenris commanded to no one in particular and all of them at once. "Get him." His eyes shifted among the slaves, all of them now actively avoiding his gaze. Someone went to follow the order. He paced the hall. Varania was standing very still, just watching her brother's feet move back and forth.

A young man rushed in behind the person who had gone to fetch him. He was panting and out of breath from running. Hawke winced when she saw he was collared like Varania had been.

"I don't know you." Fenris accused suspiciously.

The man bowed and replied to the floor. "The former steward died last year. I'm his son."

Fenris turned to look at his sister. She nodded silently. He let out a long breath, paused and then started pacing around again. Hawke could only guess at his thoughts and she imagined he himself might only be guessing at the feelings being back here stirred inside of him. She hoped that even clouded by dark emotions he could take some solace in the fact that he wasn't here alone. When he finally stopped pacing, he looked back to Varania. Their eyes met briefly and then he spoke to Hawke.

"Marian," he said, his voice rough and thick, "will you...?"

She heard the rest of the sentence in her head; he didn't have to say it aloud. Will you take care of this for me? She nodded at him. He knew she was there for him and he took the opportunity to lean on her, depend on her, trust her; trust someone else enough to be able to depend on them. Hawke knew it wasn't very long ago he thought that opportunity would ever exist for him. His trust was priceless to her and she would care for it well. Whatever demons he needed to purge at the sight of this place were more important for him to deal with right now than managing a household so she would do this small thing for him as best she could. He gave her a grateful nod back.

Fenris then started wandering the mansion, Varania shadowing his steps. Hawke thought it safer to follow also just in case she was needed. She gestured to the steward to come with them.

She spoke in a low voice to the obviously confused young man, her eyes focused on Fenris all the while as they wandered. Hawke explained in as few words as possible the death of Danarius, the Archon's gift of freedom and the transfer of Danarius's holdings to Fenris. She didn't explain who she was, but the man didn't ask. He said nothing the whole time, but his unblinking eyes were wide like saucers.

Fenris led the group of them from room to room. He would look around with an inscrutable expression then move on. Varania kept her eyes on her brother. Eventually they came to a large study. A cold fireplace, shelves and a large desk were featured prominently. Fenris moved slowly up to the desk. Hawke noticed it had several stacks of parchment and what looked like a few personal effects on it. There was a document seal and a red stick of wax. There was a quill and an ink pot. And lying on one corner was an object that seemed to hold Fenris's attention. Hawke moved forward to see. Sitting on the desk full of mundane objects was a collar. It wasn't like the mage collars. No locks or enchantments, just a simple piece of thick black leather. Its clasp was clipped to the metal links of a chain leash that was neatly coiled beside it. Hawke knew it did not belong to the Mabari.

Face still expressionless, Fenris walked up to Hawke. He looked through the keys on the ring he was holding, found the one he was looking for, removed it and gave it to her. "For the mages." He said. Then he went over to the wall opposite the hearth. On it was displayed a giant battle axe, hung neatly next to a shield bearing the Imperial dragons. An ornate filigree pattern was etched into the fat metal expanse of the axe, but it didn't make it look any less deadly. Fenris stared at the wall for a long while.

Hawke felt his lyrium and his magic flex rhythmically, matching the flexing of his fists at his sides. She knew what he was going to do before he did. She turned to the steward and ordered him with some urgency. "Listen closely. I want you to tell everyone inside here to collect whatever belongings they would take away with them and wait outside in the gardens. Stay far back from the mansion. You're also going to need to gather all of your bookkeeping and any other important documents." She held up the key Fenris had given her and added, "Gather everyone who wears one of those collars," she pointed to the steward's neck, "and I will remove them. Do this quickly. Do you understand?"

The elf now looked both frightened and confused, but it couldn't be helped. He bowed, and then left to carry out Hawke's commands. When Hawke's attention came back to Fenris he had already taken the axe down and was dragging it behind him as he made his way back to the desk. He looked down again at the collar. His lyrium flashed so brightly, so quickly, Hawke was blinded for a moment. She didn't see him raise the axe, but she saw it fall and split the desk in two.

Fenris was only just getting started. The axe came up and fell down again and again. The desk was reduced to splinters; the shelves, the chairs, the panels on the walls were all eaten up by Fenris's axe and anger. Shards of wood flew up as he raged, cutting into his skin, leaving fine lines of blood on his face and on his hands crisscrossing the lines of lyrium. Hawke and Varania let him be and just moved around giving him access to destroy whatever could be destroyed wherever he turned. Fenris's soft grunts and heavy breaths as he labored filled the room along with something else. A blackness spread out from him and the blue hue of his lyrium light began to change and darken into a deeper color. His magic spread in the atmosphere of the room and made the air thin and hard to breath. It was entropy. Chaos and destruction. Death and negation. Hawke didn't know if Fenris was aware of the entropy magic he was generating as it spilled around him. But Hawke knew that this would be the form his magic would favor from this day forward.

When Fenris was done in the study, he moved to the next room and Hawke heard the axe start to fall again. Varania stayed behind. Hawke watched as she gathered up an armful of broken wood and piled it neatly in the center of the floor. She retrieved the collar and leash from under the rubble of the desk and threw it on top. Then she pulled an oil lamp from the wall and poured some of its contents onto the pile, letting the rest trickle in a trail behind her as she calmly followed after Fenris.

Brother and sister methodically repeated the process in every room of the mansion. Sawdust and the smell of lamp oil collected in the air along with the rising dark of Fenris's magic. Slaves were rushing about and Hawke hurried them along directing them outside trying to keep everyone out of Fenris's way.

Hours passed. Hawke eventually had to leave Fenris's side so that she could make her way alone through all the rooms making sure everyone was out. The last slave to exit was the steward, carrying with him at least half a dozen thick ledgers and bags full of parchment scrolls. Another young man was helping him, also weighed down with books and papers and also wearing a mage-collar. The two looked similar, possibly brothers. They stopped in front of Hawke where she had returned to stand in the main entry hall. The men flinched at the sounds of breaking glass that were now echoing around them coming from somewhere deeper inside the mansion.

"Is everyone out?" She asked the steward. He nodded. "And the mages?"

"We are the only two Mistress." He replied with his eyes lowered.

Hawke approached him slowly. She raised her hand to the back of the man's collar and broke the enchantment on it. He moved his head to allow her access to the lock and she opened it with the key. She did the same for the other man. She stepped back, holding a collar in each hand. She let flame burst forth from her fingertips and the vile devices of subjugation fell as cinders down to the marble floor.

When she spoke to the men again, she thought she saw tears gathering in the corners of their eyes. "Do you know the mansion that belonged to a magister named Hadriana? An associate of Danarius?"

"Of course Mistress." The steward said and this time she thought she heard him swallow a sob.

"She is dead as well. The manor belongs to me now. Go there and wait for us to return. Take everyone with you, the Mabari too, and take this." Hawke removed a ring from her finger. It had the Amell family crest on it. "If anyone stops you or questions you, tell them you are under the protection of Magister Hawke of House Amell. Go quickly and be careful." The men left without another word. She was sure they would obey her orders to the letter. Merrill would be able to at least get them settled with Orana's help until they returned to sort out a more permanent plan.

Hawke was left alone. She sat on the floor, feeling more tired than she should be, and she waited. After a while, the noises of destruction ceased. A while after that, Fenris and Varania emerged from one of the corridors. Fenris had the axe resting atop one shoulder, his fine new clothes a mess of dust, chips of wood and shards of broken glass; his eyes were hidden by sweat-drenched white hair. He carried a bottle of wine in his other hand. Varania trailed the oil of one last lamp behind her. When it was empty, she tossed it to the floor and walked out of the mansion without a word.

Fenris set the axe down. He walked over to Hawke and grabbed her hand, leading her through the doors and outside. He placed her next to where Varania was standing on the neatly trimmed grass a safe distance away. The sun was low in the sky and the moons were already on the rise. He then walked back up to the mansion and stood in the threshold. Hawke saw him hold out his hand. She could feel him concentrating. A small flame flickered into existence in his open palm. She allowed herself a brief smile of pride for him at his first conscious and deliberate act of magic. He extended his arm and the flame leapt from his hand into the hall. The trail of lamp oil ignited and giant plumes of fire exploded behind him as he calmly turned and walked back to Hawke, casually lifting the wine bottle to his mouth.

When he reached the women, he passed the bottle to his sister and she sat on the ground, drinking deeply. Fenris took hold of Hawke's hand again and they joined Varania on the grass that was starting to dampen in the cooling evening air. No words were spoken. The bottle was passed between them as they watched flames envelope the mansion, black smoke rising high into the sky.

The three of them sat on the grass all night and with the taste of wine and contentment on their lips, they watched the past burn.


	47. Complicated

"That was some bonfire, Elf." Varric said dryly as he came up to lean against the doorway of the kitchen.

Fenris swallowed another bite of his breakfast. He couldn't remember when food had ever tasted quite so good. He usually ate only when he had to, and no more than he needed to. The habits of a slave. But as he was on his second plate, and a third was starting to sound like a fine idea, it appeared it was a habit easily broken.

The walk back home from what was now the ruins of his estate had seemed easier than the walk there yesterday and they arrived just in time for the morning meal. Varania had opted to go to straight to bed, led upstairs by a doting Merrill. He considered that he should be more upset at the sight of their clasped hands and soft kisses, but he wasn't. He was curiously fine with it and he had no desire to make it any more complicated. He also wasn't tired in the least despite having stayed awake all night and if Marian was, she didn't let on, so they opted to fill their bellies instead of sleeping. He looked up at Varric, but decided to just keep eating.

"The entire city saw that place burn. And a damn shame it was too. You could have sold it you know?"

"I have no intention of selling it." Fenris said. He hadn't known that was his plan until just this moment, but it felt like the right thing.

"You can't possibly mean to pay taxes on a smoking ruin? If you're going to rebuild, I can recommend some good dwarves for the work."

"I have no intention of rebuilding." Fenris paused with a fork of food hovering in front of his mouth. "I'm going to leave it as it is and let it rot. Let it be a monument to the consequences of..." He stopped. Of what exactly? Of blood magic? Of promoting slavery? Of torture, depravity, manipulation, subjugation, avarice, rape? "...of crossing us." That felt like the right thing too. He looked over at Marian, her dark eyes beaming at him. She laughed around a mouthful of food. It sounded beautiful.

"Mm, well, mission accomplished." Varric joined them at the table. "You're the only thing people are talking about this morning."

Marian spoke up. "Really? What are they saying?" Fenris thought she sounded a bit too interested in idle gossip.

And the dwarf was a bit too quick to share that gossip. "That a crazy liberati elf is killing magisters with impunity. They're calling you the Archon's Deathdealer."

Fenris scoffed. "Two. I've killed two magisters. And I did it for myself. Not at the behest of the Archon." Orana came up behind him and filled his plate again.

"Actually, love, you've killed three. There was that one in Seheron whose name we didn't get, remember? Oh, and you made one tranquil." Marian turned back to Varric. "Did we have a bet on that by the way?"

"On what? Total number of magisters murdered? Even if we did, I doubt the count is final yet. Especially considering the day you have ahead of you."

Marian pushed her plate away and stretched. Fenris moved his eyes along her body and wished the dwarf would leave. Marian saw him staring and winked at him, but continued talking to Varric. "What do you mean? As soon as he's done stuffing his face, I intend to take the Deathdealer over there upstairs to bed so that I can plead for my life." She followed the remark with a lewd smile.

Varric rolled his eyes. "You wish. The Senate is in session today. You forgot, didn't you? I suggest getting there early and making your presence known before the plotting for your deaths gets too involved."

Marian looked crestfallen. "Shit. I suppose the Archon will know if I'm not there?"

"The Archon will be present." Fenris replied. "I will accompany you. If we are fortunate, you will vote the way you were instructed and he will have no more need of us for the time being."

Marian looked hopeful at Fenris's unexpected optimism. She turned to Varric looking for agreement. "Do you think that's a possibility?"

The dwarf didn't even look up from his food. "Hawke, there is not even the slightest chance of that being a possibility."

Her spirits seemed to fall again. She asked Varric, "Do we know anything about this Archon yet? I'd feel better dealing with him if I knew something about him. What kind of a mage is he? He looks so young, how did he get to be Archon in the first place? Does he have family? Allies? Well, other than the ones he's blackmailed into helping him."

Fenris could at least answer part of her question. "Antonius was elected to the position when the previous Archon died leaving no heir."

"That's right, but you know it's more complicated than that. From what I hear, no one expected him to win the seat." Varric started weaving the story as he knew it. "Apparently his family was quite powerful years ago. A 'pure' mage bloodline and all that. His grandfather was also an Archon but he was assassinated; his sons murdered too. His daughter, Antonius's mother, was married off into another noble family and spared the same fate. Antonius rose through the ranks, but largely escaped notice from the establishment. When it came time to elect a new Archon there were two frontrunners for the position. Obviously they were from opposing factions within the Magisterium. Antonius put his name forth also, but no one seemed to take him seriously. That is until the votes were counted. He managed to split the vote and come out on top by a small margin. Two days after the election the losers and their apprentices were all found dead in their homes."

Varric's tale settled in the air. Marian frowned. "Hm. Maybe he is a scorpion."

"A what?" Varric asked.

"When we met him, I noticed he had a tattoo of a scorpion on his chest. I guess it's fitting. Small and unexpectedly deadly."

"More fitting than you think." Fenris leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. "Most magisters will tattoo themselves upon their appointment. It is typically the image of an animal, a familiar of sorts, with an enchantment on it. Crasta, for instance, had a dragon on his arm. Hadriana, a raven on her ankle." A brief wave of satisfied relief spread over him at the thought that he would never see those images again.

Marian looked up at him, wondering. He looked back at her in the manner they used to communicate wordlessly, and let her know it was okay to ask. "And Danarius?" She asked softly.

Fenris couldn't help the predatory gleam in his eyes. "A wolf on his back."

Marian offered a soft smile at the irony and Fenris could almost feel the slick and jagged bones of Danarius's spine in his fingers again.

Varric had another bit of irony in mind. "Well, that begs the question 'Hawke'." He said, drawing out the sound her name. "Rather convenient, don't you think?"

Fenris answered for her. "No. I will not see her so marred. And she has no need of such enchantments. She has me."

xxxx

The rest of what Varric knew of the Archon was precious little and Fenris had been outside the sphere of Minrathous gossip for far too long to contribute anything else. He realized he much preferred being outside that sphere than right at the center of it.

He walked with Marian shoulder to shoulder down the city streets. He bore the weight of the red steel greatsword on his back. And those were the only two things that felt comfortable at the moment. He was dressed in the finery his sister had stitched for him. Soft black leather and cloth so smooth it slipped through Marian's fingers as she dressed him. As strange as these clothes felt, if it meant that Marian would personally put them on his body every morning he would wear nothing else for the rest of his days. But he still missed the feeling of metal on his chest and thick hide on his limbs. Not that those things would protect him from the scheming den of serpents they were about to enter, or scorpions as the case may be.

The closer they got to the senate hall the louder the whispers became and the more eyes he felt following them.

Liberati. Magister-killer. Deathdealer...

He had walked this path many times with Danarius, following behind as a slave, but never had it unsettled him so. Slaves, even ones such as him, were meant to be unnoticed; at least until he was ordered to be otherwise. That offered a certain degree of anonymity that apparently he was no longer afforded. The whispers and the eyes made his lyrium crawl. From every direction he felt new enemies were advancing on them and he saw danger sprouting up on all sides. By the time they reached the senate, he was as tense as a caged beast ready to lash out at the first rattle of his bars.

He blinked against the light of the sun reflecting off the bright stone of the buildings. He tried to relax himself and uncoil some of the tension wound up in his gut. He took a deep breath and in doing so a strange sensation of blackness seemed to move in and out of his lungs along with the air. It filled his chest and pushed out against the lines of his lyrium. It was such an odd feeling, not unpleasant, but definitely not normal, so he closed his eyes and tried to bring it into focus. Right before it felt like it was becoming clear, a hand clamped down on his arm and pulled at him.

"Fenris!" Marian's tone held a command in it and she wore a serious expression. The markings underneath where her fingers gripped his arm were tingling with the sensation of her magic on them. "Focus, Fenris." She said slowly, looking right into his eyes. "Laying waste to your mansion is one thing, but a public street is quite another and no place for dark magic."

Dark magic? Is that what that was? A rising shade of entropy that he was calling out from inside himself? He shook his head and the sensation of it dissipated. He focused on Marian. She must have seen his mind clear because she smiled at him and gave him a reassuring squeeze before she released his arm. "Good, love. Consider this your first official lesson as an apprentice. Lesson number one: Public displays of magic. When in public, surrounded by people you don't like, you must always be conscious of the control you need to exercise to avoid...negating people. Unfortunately, your tendency towards destructive magic will make it all too easy for you to kill before you even know what you're doing. When I was young I favored the elements. It's easier to control an element. It's easier for entropy, however, to control you. Be wary of this."

Fenris sighed and his brow furrowed deeply. When had things become so complicated? He looked down at Marian. When he met her. Before her, his life was defined by pain. Pain was simple. Predictable. Since he met her, everything was new and unexpected, which by all rights should unsettle him and yet instead he found himself soothed by her words and her guidance.

He looked up and around at the bustle of activity outside the senate doors. Groups of magisters were still whispering and exchanging suspicious glances in their direction. Danger still loomed, but before the blackness could come on him again, Marian curled her arm around his and held her head up. "Follow me." She said. She led him alongside her into the hall, silently guiding him, proud and undaunted by whatever they would encounter. He followed. It was simpler. And because simplicity without pain was another new concept for him, he focused on the exquisite feeling of that instead.

xxxx

Hawke tried to ignore the shame of finally being driven to sound just like her father. She took solace in the fact that at least she hadn't sounded like her mother. To do that she would have had to buy Fenris a dress, tell him how pretty he looked in it and then try to marry him off. For now she'd deal with the fact that she had just taught him how to conceal his magic in public. An odd lesson, to be sure, in a land where magic defined existence, but she would not let him come to harm because she had been lax in teaching him how to use his powers properly.

Hawke was rapidly becoming aware of the fact that Fenris's magic would need to be controlled as rigidly as hers was if he was going to be able to use it effectively without inadvertently cutting down everything in his path. It's possible his lyrium made it unstable. Without it, he likely would have been more...normal. Perhaps more like Bethany had been, with magic that could be trained to grow and develop over time. As it was, now that his magic had fully awoken, her elf was stuck with a bubbling cauldron of strange and dark powers beyond his understanding fueled by a permanent supply of lyrium. Her father's lessons would help him manage things better. They had served her well for most of her life and they would do the same for him.

Arm in arm, the two of them entered the large senate hall. In contrast to the rich furnishings of the spires and private residences she had seen in the city, this building held an elegant austerity that didn't make her want to spit in disgust. Fenris tugged gently on her arm and leaned in to whisper to her, making sure his voice didn't carry.

"Marian. There." He flicked his head in the direction of a group of black robed men entering from an opposite doorway. Several slaves moved with them. They walked briskly between the tiered rows of stone benches to a section towards the center of the rotunda. The group was led by the Archon.

A bell sounded from somewhere above them, and in response people began to enter from the many doors and archways all around hurrying to take their seats, as much as magisters could be expected to hurry for anything.

Hawke was about to sit down at a bench hugging the rear wall when Fenris stopped her. He drew her attention to the Archon again, who had stopped in the middle of the aisle and was looking directly at them from across the distance of the hall. Without taking his eyes from them he summoned a slave to his side and gave an order to the man when he bowed in front of him. The slave turned and made his way quickly to where Hawke and Fenris stood. The Archon continued leading his party of what was likely his cabinet of ministers to the center to sit down.

When the slave made it up to them he bowed before Hawke and said, "Mistress, please follow me. Your slave may wait here."

Hawke tried not be angry and considered it a bit ridiculous that this person still thought Fenris to be a slave when he was carrying a giant Qunari sword and wearing clothes that cost more coin than most of the houses she'd lived in as a child. Not to mention they were practically holding hands. "He's not my slave. He's my apprentice," And then she added under her breath, "among other things...' Fenris poked her with his elbow and scowled at her. The man backed away a little bit and looked up at Fenris. The slave then bowed lower. "I...I'm sorry Master...I..."

Fenris simply gestured for the man to carry out his orders.

They were led down towards the center and were deposited at a bench just behind the Archon's group. Fenris removed his sword and held it beside him like a pillar where he sat. Marian removed her staff and cradled it a little more casually in her arms. When she looked up again, she noticed the hall was full to capacity and the bell sounded a second time. She sat, looking as defiant as she dared, but she had to admit to herself that a twinge of intimidation was forming in her chest.

An elderly woman seated across the aisle from the archon rose and began reading names aloud from a large book. As each name was read, one of the magisters stood in acknowledgement and then sat back down. The list included Hawke but by the time her name was read, she had started to doze off, her head falling on Fenris's shoulder. He poked her again and she jerked awake and stood. A few huffs and snorts could be heard echoing in the hall either because she was seen to have been sleeping during their very important roll call or they just wanted her to know they hated her. Two times during the enumeration of magisters, a name was read and no one stood. People looked around and then whispered among themselves.

Fenris whispered an explanation to her. "They will either be found dead soon, or never found at all. There is never any other reason for a magister to be absent." Hawke noticed the Archon did not seem to be moved at all by the missing magisters.

She asked Fenris. "Are those two names familiar to you at all?"

"Yes. I do recall them having dealings in the past with Danarius."

Hawke couldn't exclude the possibility that Antonius had them removed from the scene because of their association with Danarius. The Archon was apparently not someone who wanted to leave loose ends.

When everyone was accounted for, at least when everyone who was still among the living was accounted for, they moved quickly into addressing the business of the day. Various different magisters approached the center of the rotunda to speak on various topics and debate each other. She paid attention only enough to recognize when she needed to cast her ballots. Fenris had helped her quickly memorize her planned votes before they had left the mansion and it was still fresh enough in her mind that she managed to fulfill her duty. When the last votes were counted, the bell tolled a final time and Hawke was pleased to learn it signaled the end of the session. It was perhaps more boring than she imaged it would be but she wasn't about to lament the absence of any blood magic rituals.

She almost had a smile on her face as they rose, arm in arm again, and proceeded to lead Fenris out of the hall. They would soon be home in bed and she could peel those fantastic new clothes off of him...

That would have been too easy, she thought to herself when they were intercepted again by the slave from earlier. He bowed and handed Hawke a small envelope. She took it and he quickly backed away offering no explanation. Hawke held it in her hand and stared at it. She wasn't sure if she would have actually considered just burning the thing without reading it if Fenris hadn't swiped it from her and opened it. He tore open the seal and read silently.

His expression left much to be desired. He certainly didn't seem pleased by what he had read. He opened his mouth and chose his words carefully. "Our presence has been...requested, at a...gathering, at the Archon's estate this evening."

Hawke grabbed the note back. The look on his face told her this was going to be far more complicated than he was letting on. "Why are you saying it like that? Do you mean we were invited to a party?" She made a face like someone had invited them on a walk through the sewers. She read the invitation herself.

It took her a moment to really understand. Tevene wasn't her first language. The letter was written in very formal, very pretty and very vague words. And then it hit her. Her eyes went wide. "Oh for the love of..." She threw the paper away from her like it carried a disease. "Maker's balls, Fenris! Were we just summoned to an orgy?"

He walked away from her and didn't reply. She followed him, shouting at him over his shoulder. "You never said that's what they actually did!"

"I never denied it either." He mumbled and just kept walking.


	48. Names

"If anyone touches me, they're losing a hand." Marian said.

"If anyone touches you, I swear they're losing more than that." Fenris replied.

"And if anyone touches you, I won't be held responsible for my actions." Marian added.

"If anyone touches me, I'd be curious to see your actions." Fenris challenged.

She went back and forth with him the entire walk home. Marian asked question after question and Fenris did the best he could to give only the necessary information. There were many things she didn't need to know. The more he told her the more she was likely to do something stupid like refuse to go, or make some kind of sanctimonious scene when she got there. He could better manage her mercurial temper if he kept her at least slightly in the dark.

At first, she had tried to come up with a way to get out of going entirely. He quickly put a stop to that endeavor. They had been summoned. Under the circumstances, they were obligated to attend. Even if Antonius wasn't holding Hawke's phylactery over their heads, it would be too dangerous to refuse the command of the Archon and continue to remain in Tevinter.

"Many things occur at these functions." Fenris offered trying to remain vague. "They are political as much as they are social. Participation in sex isn't required for guests." He wished he could take back that last sentence. It sounded too much like exactly what it meant. That there would be slaves there for whom participation was not an option. She would definitely have a problem with that. He quickly continued before she could start another indignant rant. "It is important that we are present if only to assure no one has the opportunity to scheme behind our backs. And besides that, the fact that you're taking offense at the activities found therein isn't exactly consistent. You are hardly sexually inhibited."

She punched him in the arm. Hard.

"I've only ever had one lover at a time, Fenris. And I don't recall ever hearing you complain about my disinhibition. And for your information, I don't intend to have any other lovers besides you ever again. And furthermore, when I think about..."

She went on and on and he stopped listening. After what seemed like the longest walk of his life they finally reached the door of their mansion. He sighed deeply as he went inside to be greeted by Varania and Merrill sitting on benches in the main hall petting two mabari. He hadn't noticed that Marian rescued the dogs as well as the slaves from the estate. The beasts were shamefully sprawled on their backs as their bellies were rubbed by the women. Marian was still talking behind him when Varania stood and approached. He stopped. His sister looked up and down at his clothes then smiled in approval putting a hand on her hip. He was surprised when he realized the pose reminded him of Isabela.

"Is there to be a party this evening?" Varania asked him. "I assumed, so I was able to arrange some appropriate clothes for the both of you to wear for it."

That was the wrong thing to say within hearing of Marian, who growled back, incensed, "We're both wearing our armor, and we're going heavily armed." She walked past brother and sister to sit beside Merrill and attend to the dogs.

Fenris and Varania stood side by side watching their lovers. They seemed to both make the decision to forgo awkward statements and save any deeper conversations for another day. For now, it was enough that they healed in parallel. After more time and more healing perhaps they could try to intersect at some point in the future. Until then, they fell into a casual and pleasantly civil discussion.

Fenris started. "It will be at the Archon's estate. He had a slave personally hand us an invitation as we were departing the senate hall."

"Did any of the magisters approach you?" His sister asked.

"Fortunately, no. They probably don't feel they know enough yet to chance acting against us. But our grace period in that regard is going to end very quickly if it hasn't already."

"Well, you have drawn their blood and with seemingly no repercussions to either of you. It's doubtful Antonius has told anyone about her phylactery. The knowledge of its existence is likely almost as valuable as the thing itself. He's going to keep it all to himself. I'm sure he's even grateful you gave him a reason to eliminate Crasta from the equation."

Fenris turned to look at Varania. "Do you know anything else we might be able to use in our dealings with Antonius? Did Crasta or Danarius ever mention anything?"

"Nothing that will be of use, I'm afraid. Crasta seemed to have something akin to respect for him, but I could tell it was only because he knew it was the better calculation to stay in the Archon's favor. I'm not sure why. Besides, Crasta was given free reign. He would have had no reason to oppose the man. From what I gathered from Danarius, no one has ever actually witnessed Antonius using any kind of truly deadly or dangerous magic. Nor has he ever been known to keep company with the scholars in the spires to think he might have studied anything very arcane or powerful. And yet they both kept him at a wary distance. That was eventually what got under Danarius's skin. He couldn't stand living in the shadow of the unknown. He was tired of bowing to someone he wasn't entirely sure even deserved his respect. Danarius was always more bold than Crasta."

Fenris considered Varania's words. His former master was right about one thing. There were too many unknowns surrounding Antonius to feel comfortable. "I must make sure Marian does not find herself in the Archon's presence alone."

"From what I've seen she can defend herself, Le...Fen..." Varania sighed in nervous indecision over something so simple as what to call him. "...Brother. I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"It's alright." Fenris replied quick enough that he surprised himself. "You may call me whatever makes you comfortable." He was surprised he said that too. He hadn't thought he especially cared if she was comfortable or not. But he had to admit he didn't actively desire her discomfort. "I...don't mind." He almost wanted to take back the allowance he had granted as soon as he offered it. But now that he had taken the step forward he decided retreat wasn't an option.

Varania looked down at her feet biting her lip against a smile. She spoke so quietly, directly to the floor, he almost didn't hear her. "Do you want to know the meaning behind your name? Your given name?"

Fenris thought that one step forward for the day was more than generous. He wasn't about to volunteer another. He answered a bit harshly. "If I say no, are you going to tell me anyway?"

But his sister didn't seem hurt by his bitter tone. "If you say no, I'll take it to my grave and you'll never hear of it from me."

He tried to formulate another abrasive reply, but his efforts were interrupted by another thought. Why not? He was denying no one but himself in this purposeless obstinacy. It was his name. He now owned everything that once belonged to the man who had owned him. He should want to own the meaning of his name as well.

"What does it mean?" This time it was Fenris who spoke so softly Varania barely heard him. But she did hear him and she told the tale, unable to keep what sounded like pride out of her voice.

"In the days of the second blight when the elves of the Dales turned their backs on the humans as they fought the darkspawn, there was one Elvhen warrior who extended his aid and helped to beat back the hoard. His name was Leto and you were named after him. He was given an honored place among the humans and after taking a human wife, he fathered a great and noble house." Varania looked up at him with what seemed to be an inappropriate wry smile given the seriousness with which she had been telling the story so far. "The symbol of that noble house was a Red Hawk."

xxxx

Hawke looked over at where Fenris stood speaking with Varania. She had been shamelessly trying to listen in on their conversation, straining her ears in their direction, but Merrill kept chatting on about nothing, so she couldn't make out a thing they were saying.

And then suddenly, she saw a change on Fenris's face. It was like a...crack. A fracture right through his default scowl. His head tilted a bit to the side, his mouth twitched and then opened into a wide smile. His eyes crinkled up and he burst out laughing.

It was a full, deep and strangely sexy sound, if totally out of character. Varania actually backed away a step, sharing Hawke's surprise, but Hawke couldn't help notice she was grinning from ear to ear as well. Merrill stopped rambling. The dogs rolled and sat up, whining a little at their attention having been stolen.

"Fenris?" Hawke said tentatively. The laughter died down into a few low chuckles when he heard his name. He looked over at Hawke, paused, and then started laughing even louder. He left the women in the hall and went upstairs alone, laughing the whole way.

xxxx

Fenris still had a smile on his face, but he managed to stop laughing by the time he reached their bedroom. His outburst was unexpected, but oddly, a relief. It was easier to laugh than to actually think about the possibility that fate was more than just a topic of debate for theologians. He decided he was glad to have reclaimed knowledge of his former name, but even so, it was still just that. A former name. He wasn't Leto. Leto had been boy drawn into a future not of his choosing, brought to his fate like a lamb to the slaughter. He was Fenris. And Fenris was no lamb. He was a wolf who commanded his own fate and shaped his own destiny.

He entered the large bedchamber and found yet another set of clothes laid out for him, along with something for Marian. He started pulling off what he was wearing and something occurred to him. He stood, half undressed, staring at the two sets of clothes next to each other on the bed.

Varania's story repeated itself in his head and something occurred to him that he had never considered before.

An honored place. A human wife. A great and noble house.

xxxx

Hawke found him in their bedroom. He was half dressed and staring down at the bed. She crept up behind him, not actually thinking she could sneak up on him, but she stepped softly nonetheless. When she reached him she spread her fingers along his back. She wrapped her arms around him, surrounding them both with invisible ribbons of magic that made the embrace seem tighter. She had come up here wanting to ask him what the laughing episode had been about, but she felt he was deep in thought, so she asked him about that instead.

"Fenris? Is something wrong?"

His hand came up to cover hers where they rested on his chest. He shook his head slowly. "I...No. I'm...fine."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Just...a story." He said, as if he didn't quite know himself what he had been thinking about.

Hawke nuzzled her cheek against the lines of lyrium running down his spine, making them shimmer. Her lips tickled his skin as she spoke. "Does it have a happy ending?"

"I think I've just decided that it does."

She laughed, not really caring that she didn't understand a word of this exchange. "So tell it to me."

Fenris turned to face her. She had taken their conversation as light-hearted, yet the look in his eyes was so serious she was taken aback. "I will, Marian. I promise." He said and he kissed her so tenderly it made her heart ache and her toes tingle at the same time. When he pulled away he spoke again, against her lips. "When I'm ready."

She guessed they weren't talking about a simple bedtime tale. She pulled him close and kissed him with everything she had in her. Everything in her all belonged entirely to him anyway. She didn't know what she was waiting for, but if it felt half this good, she hoped she didn't have to wait for very long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N and a Disclaimer: In addition to not owning anything about DA, I don't own anything about Dune either; but it was too tempting to make the reference, so I did. I had meant for this chapter to be the party, but then this 'in-between' stuff kinda came out, so I thought I'd just go with it. Orgy next chapter. Promise. But come on, we all know Fenris doesn't share. Sex just happens to be good background music to politics in Tevinter. Thanks for reading!


	49. Spiral

Fenris waited at the bottom of the staircase tapping his finger impatiently on the banister. He was far too agitated already and the evening had not even started yet. Of course, Marian had lost the battle over what clothes they would wear. Merrill hid her armor from her using some kind of spell while twittering nonsensically about how she wanted to see Marian in a 'pretty dress'. Entirely too much space in his head had been taken up lately discussing clothing.

Too disgusted to argue, he put on what his sister had made for him. Sadly, it was the most comfortable thing he had ever had wrapped around his limbs besides Marian. And if dressing appropriately got him one less infuriating and spiteful stare from the Minrathous social climbers it was worth it.

He hadn't bothered to really look at what he was wearing, so when Marian came down the stairs he almost didn't look at her clothes either. Unfortunately, it was hard not to notice.

She stopped at the bottom and they studied each other. Eyes narrowed. Lips curled. Foreheads wrinkled.

"This is totally unacceptable, Marian."  
"Over my dead body, Fenris."

Their disgruntled objections were spoken simultaneously. Marian was dressed in...not much. And while still appropriately modest, the suggestion of exposure was enough. Was too much in fact. Too much leg. Too much shoulder. And far too much of the tender spot on her neck, exposed from under her upswept hair, begging to be licked and bitten...

"This is impossible. I cannot protect you like this." Fenris hoped he made it sound like he would have trouble protecting her from the eyes of others and not like he would have trouble because of his own lust filled distraction.

"You're not my bodyguard. And you're the one who shouldn't be considering...this." She waved her hand around at him. "I can see your lyrium, for Maker's sake!"

Fenris looked down at where she was pointing her finger. He hadn't noticed the exposed lines of lyrium on his chest. He rubbed his forehead. "Enough. I'm done discussing this. We are going as we are, and I'm never spending another moment thinking about these ludicrous frivolities ever again."

He made for the door and she followed. Before opening it, he asked over his shoulder, "Do you have a weapon?"

"Several."

He looked her up and down again. "Where?" He saw no possible points of concealment on her person, lacking as it was in sufficient coverings.

She held out her arms and practically purred. "Search me and find out."

Fenris had to adjust himself as he reluctantly turned away from her. He walked out through the door, growling under his breath, "Woman, you will be the death of me."

xxxx

Unsurprisingly, the Archon's private estate was in the same district as the estate formerly belonging to Danarius. Hawke gestured at the newly abandoned manor.

"Look, love, you and Antonius are neighbors."

Fenris either didn't hear her or wasn't amused.

When they approached the gates to their destination, he started barking a list of orders at her. "Do not drink anything you are given. Do not tell anyone anything about yourself. Do not speak about Crasta, Danarius or Hadriana. Do not try to collect any more slaves."

Hawke interrupted. "Collect? What is that supposed to mean? More than half the slaves in our house belong to you! And I intend to free them as soon as we're able..."

Fenris pinched his eyes shut. "Fine. Fine. Do not 'rescue' anymore slaves. And do not leave my side."

She would wholeheartedly follow that command. She nodded at him. Fenris held out his elbow for her and she threaded her arm through his.

When they walked through the gates it was as if they entered into another world. The sun had just sunk down below the horizon. There was a dim purple haze of early evening hanging in the air. Music, from what sounded like a small group of instruments, tinkled delicately from somewhere in the distance towards the mansion. They headed in that general direction.

In contrast to the open lawns of Fenris's estate, the Archon's gardens were dense and maze-like. They wandered up and down paths and would occasionally come upon a clearing with some centerpiece of interest, a fountain or a statue or a neatly trimmed fruit tree. Hawke might have wanted to stop and admire the art and architecture if not for the people they found...at play, in each of the little coves. It was obvious the vignettes they were being made to pass as they walked through the gardens were all part of the entertainment. Each pairing was more stunningly beautiful than the next. Men, women, elves, humans, all were represented in all colors of skin, hair and eyes. The couples were in various states of undress, Marian assumed, as part of a grand orchestration to provide the most pleasing visual experience. A ripple of finely toned muscle here, the soft curve of a bare breast there; two women clad in bright green silks embracing, two men with not a stitch on them kissing.

At first she and Fenris walked through quickly with deliberate steps, not pausing to observe. But as they meandered deeper, their steps slowed. In spite of themselves they began to linger and admire if only out of the corner of their eyes. By the time they reached the mansion's doors, wide open with the inviting yellow glow of candle light coming from inside, Hawke was dizzy with desire. They lingered just outside the threshold. Her hand had come up to stroke the lyrium on Fenris's wrist and she had been pulling him so closely to her as they walked she was practically hanging on his arm. Her breaths came deep and heavy in her chest and the air she inhaled tasted thick and sweet. She leaned into him more and caught a whiff of his scent and, Maker his scent! She buried her nose against his shoulder to get more of it inside her head. She heard him try to stifle a moan as she nuzzled her face on the thin cloth of his tunic.

He grabbed hold of her arm and spun them around out of the doorway, pushing her up against the exterior of the mansion. He pressed his whole body against hers and the skin left bare on her back by the scant material of her dress was scratched by the stone when he started grinding against her. The sting on her skin from the abrasive wall was blissfully maddening. And the feeling of his hardness rubbing on her sex, even through their clothes, was fucking delicious.

He started kissing his favorite spot on her neck and she sighed into his ear. Her eyes closed, but even so, she sensed the light of his lyrium rise and she worked her hands under his tunic so she could feel it pulse under her fingers. His lips moved from her neck to her mouth and as he kissed her she felt his hands come under her behind and lift her up so their heads were level.

Somehow, in her lustful delirium, her legs found his waist and she pulled him in with the muscles of her thighs. She started trying to rub herself against him now with her own rhythm and it was almost right...

"Ah!"

The shocked gasp hadn't come from either of them. Hawke dropped her feet back to the ground and pulled out of their kiss. She looked over at a small group of people just emerging from the garden path. Fenris growled, his green eyes blown out to black with unsatisfied desire. His lyrium flared brightly now, unashamed and full of frustration. The intruders to their tryst all jumped and backed away at Fenris's threatening display. They hurried inside whispering things between themselves that Hawke couldn't make out but she sensed they weren't complimentary.

Fenris let out a breath, giving Hawke some space to straighten herself. He did the same. When she was presentable again, and not quite looking like she was tumbled through the bushes, she saw that Fenris was almost smiling. He folded his arms on his chest and was looking inside the open doors.

"They feared me." He said, as if he was trying to understand his own statement.

"I'm not sure we know anyone who doesn't fear you." Marian stated matter-of-factly.

"This was different. They didn't fear me because of what you could have me do to them. They feared me."

Hawke's head was still fogged with arousal, but she tried to understand. Fenris had been Danarius's bodyguard, so he was only feared as an extension of the magister. Now he was feared because he was a mage whose dark magic hung heavy on his shoulders like a cloak, with lyrium literally at his fingertips. She supposed that must be a pleasing revelation for him; to have turned the tables on these magisters such that they jumped at a mere reflexive twitch of his power.

"Fun, isn't it?" She commented.

"It is." He answered with pleasant surprise.

Pondering the power Fenris wielded and seeing him enjoying flexing it only served to put Hawke right back to where she started, consumed by the desire to ride Fenris up against a stone wall.

"Fenris, is it possible someone has summoned a desire demon? I'm feeling very affected by the atmosphere here and we haven't even gone inside yet."

He nodded his head in agreement with her concerns. "I don't know. It is possible. But I don't feel threatened at all. Yet. We should go in."

Hawke swallowed her disappointment, looking longingly at a patch of the stone wall before they entered.

xxxx

Fenris realized he could get very accustomed to not feeling constantly at peril. He was in the center of a pit of depravity surrounded by magister blood mages and possibly a desire demon lurking in the shadows. And despite all of that, he would have happily fucked Marian dizzy up against the side of the mansion as if they had not a care in the world. Of all the things magic had taken away from him in life, it was about time it started giving back and he felt this newfound confidence might be the beginning.

He led Marian through the massive mansion. Candles bathed everything in a soft and suggestive light. He could easily make out the music now, evocative melodies he had heard countless times before in settings much like this when he attended in a very different capacity. Naked slaves roamed about. There were several scenes similar to those of the garden path being observed by guests; sometimes being manipulated by guests. They passed a few magisters. Fenris made it a point to hold his head up and look each one in the eyes. All of them balked under his gaze and quickly looked away. The feeling was intoxicating. And somehow, arousing. He wished he had taken Marian up against that wall if only to relieve some of the tension bound up in the vicinity of his groin.

"We should find the Archon and greet him." He said to Marian as he looked around the large ballroom they had entered. There was certainly dancing going on among the many people inside, but of a very different type than was originally intended for this room.

Marian followed him as they stepped around scattered cushions and comfortable looking settees, all occupied. He tried to ignore the sounds of panting and moaning and skin meeting skin as he searched.

"Why?" Marian asked, a hint of disgust in her voice, though whether it was at the suggestion of finding Antonius or the sights and sounds of sex that were assaulting her, he couldn't tell.

"You truly have no experience with these types of gatherings among nobility, do you?" Fenris was getting a little impatient, though again, there could be more than one reason for that.

"Sex parties? I think that goes without saying." She met his impatience with sarcasm.

"You know very well what I meant. You were nobility in Kirkwall. You are the same here. You must learn sometime. He's your host. And the ruler of the land you now call home. And the man who holds the means to control you. He's invited you to his home. It matters not that you had no choice. We must pay him respect. I also don't think you realize how many of those magisters you saw in the senate today would cut off their right hands, and yours, to be here right now."

He heard Marian emit a grunt. He took it as assent. They passed through the ballroom and out onto a terrace. The moons were bright in the cloudless sky, providing enough light that torches were barely needed. As soon as they were outside, their search for Antonius was interrupted by a man of similar years to Fenris and Marian. He was well dressed, but he was a totally forgettable sort. As a bodyguard, Fenris would have dismissed him immediately as no threat at all. As a free man and a mage, Fenris was even less impressed.

"Good evening, friends!" The man said with a wide smile, raising up the glass of wine he held.

Marian's reply was quick, as if she'd been waiting to defend herself from something. "What do you want?" She demanded.

The man put up a hand, still grinning. "Now, now, I don't want anything, least of all trouble with the two of you." He laughed and took a drink. "Actually, that's a lie, I do want something. I want to thank you."

"Excuse me?" Fenris stepped forward, becoming annoyed at what felt like mockery from this insect of a magister who was likely too new in his position to know he shouldn't speak so casually to people whose magic was obviously stronger than his.

The man backed away, realizing his faux pas. "I'm serious. You're Magister Hawke and the Archon's Deathdealer right?" He laughed nervously. "You'd have no reason to know this, but you've done me quite a service. You see," He leaned in closer to them, lowering his voice to nearly a whisper. "I had an older sister. Only family I had. Hated her with a passion. She was a bitch and I considered killing her myself more than once, but you did the job for me."

Curious now, Marian and Fenris looked at each other, then back at the man, letting him continue.

"Her two apprentices showed up on my doorstep recently. Apparently she had been helping that Magister Danarius with some kind of coup attempt. They told me an elf, with a greatsword in one hand and a mage they had never seen before in the other, ran her through and killed her in Seheron. They said they barely escaped alive themselves. I don't know any more details. I though it safer just to kill them both." He waved his hand dismissively. "So, thanks to you, I've inherited her money and her senate seat."

Fenris noticed Marian had been listening intently and with obvious amusement.

"I think they also said you might have some of her slaves." The man seemed to be trying to remember the words of the dead apprentices.

Marian's face turned fierce. "You're not getting the slaves back."

"Oh, gods, no! Of course not. My gift to you. And even so, I owe you more still." His voice got even softer. "Should you need support in any future endeavors, consider me an ally. And if you find it in your good graces to mention such to the Archon, I promise I would not disappoint." And with that he lifted his glass again and left them.

Fenris and Marian watched him walk away, neither of them really knowing what to say about it, so they just resumed their search for the Archon.

Thankfully it didn't take long. They had had to endure a few malicious stares from several groups of people, and more than one sharp whisper accompanied by sneers of contempt, but eventually they came around to the far corner of the terrace where the Archon sat alone on a low bench with a slave in his lap. Fenris felt Marian tense when she noticed what was going on.

Her hackles rose and she spoke through clenched teeth. "Fenris, I can't do this. This is...not right!" Her magic was starting to spark in the air, snapping with righteous contempt for the moral depravity she was witnessing.

Fenris pulled her in front of him and grabbed her shoulders. "Your morals are not their morals. One battle at a time."

She took a deep breath and calmed herself. When the feeling of lightning crackling disappeared from around her, he took her by the hand and they approached.

xxxx

Hawke wanted to retch. The man had a woman's head buried in his crotch for all to see. She was clearly a slave, a nearly naked one, and his eyes were looking down at her as he leaned back on his hands while she serviced him. His chest was bare again and the scorpion on it was sharp and clear in the moonlight.

She pleaded with Fenris. "I can't speak to someone like this. You can't make me do this, you know. I'm going to vomit if we get any closer."

"Stop whining. You sound like a child." He paused. "He is finished anyway."

Hawke saw Antonius stroke the woman's hair and she leaned back on her heels. She helped him put everything back in place then she stood. Hawke really did want to vomit. The woman stepped around the bench to stand behind the Archon. She kept her eyes down and clasped her hands in front of her demurely. Hawke couldn't help but notice she was absolutely lovely. She was an elf with dark skin and dark hair that fell in tight ringlets around her face. She was the picture of femininity with full breasts, lush curves and pouty lips, swollen from...

"Magister Hawke. Fenris. It's a pleasure to see you both again." The Archon gave them a relaxed smile. Hawke shook her head slightly trying to clear away the image of the slaves lips wrapped around Antonius's...

Fenris bowed and pulled Hawke down into one as well. He squeezed her hand when they rose and she spoke, trying to make her voice sound not at all agitated. "Excellency. We're honored by your invitation." That was what Fenris had told her to say and thank the Maker she had that statement to fall back on, because she couldn't for all the world think what she would have said otherwise.

Antonius looked at Fenris. "It seems you've acquired a new moniker. Better for us all I think. 'Little wolf' sounds more like an endearment than the name of someone who's killed more than one magister in cold blood." He rose and held his hand out to Hawke. She hesitated, looked over at Fenris, and then extended her hand to the Archon. He took it and kissed it lightly before gesturing that they follow him down a path into the gardens. Hawke directed a distressed glance at Fenris before she wiped the back of her hand on her dress.

They walked three abreast around shrubbery at a leisurely pace. The beautiful slave trailed behind, her bare feet making not a sound. When they had crested a small hill Antonius stopped and folded his arms, looking out into the distance. Hawke did the same and she noticed they could see Fenris's estate from this vantage point.

"I love what you've done with the place." The Archon said wryly. "I do hope you leave it like that. It makes for a good deterrent."

Hawke wondered if the fact that Antonius agreed with Fenris's plan for his estate would make him reconsider if only to be contrary. But that sounded more like something she would do herself. Whatever this game was they were playing with 'His Excellency', it seemed that Fenris was better at it than she was.

After another moment admiring Fenris's pile of rubble next door, Antonius starting walking back towards the mansion. "Come along." He ordered and they all obeyed.

The Archon led, Hawke and Fenris walked arm in arm behind him and the slave walked behind them. Everyone they passed stared, then bowed casually, then shot daggers from their eyes. The magic of so many mages in one place and all of it directed malevolently towards them was making Hawke tense and she was doing the best she could to try to maintain a placid outer appearance.

But that internal struggle became impossible when the Archon started leading them upstairs. Hawke stopped in her tracks at the bottom and the slave girl almost ran into them. Fenris gave her a stern look and nearly dragged her up the steps following Antonius. She pleaded with him wordlessly with her eyes trying to stop him from walking forward and trying to make sure no one noticed that was what she was trying to do. But she couldn't stop him without causing a scene so she had to give up.

He can't possibly be allowing this to happen. He said he wouldn't. We agreed bad things would happen if anyone touched either of us. He said we wouldn't have to participate...

Hawke's thoughts were spiraling out of control. She was terrified that all bets were off when it came to the Archon. She heard cries of pleasure or pain or both coming from below them. She heard flesh beat against flesh in time with the music. She looked ahead of her at the most powerful mage in Thedas, half dressed. She looked behind her at a his sex slave who not minutes before this was sucking his cock. She looked at Fenris, infuriatingly stoic, and she looked at the death grip he had on her arm, keeping her in step next to him. There was only one place the Archon could be leading them to. She wondered how far Fenris would allow this to go if it meant keeping her safe. Suddenly she didn't trust him not to make some kind of twisted self-sacrifice. She worried that he had a plan worked out in his head where they could leave this den of iniquity with their lives intact but not with their dignity. Freedom couldn't possibly be this fragile. Was everything in this damned empire simply a trade from one type of enslavement to another? Perhaps a prettier enslavement, wrapped with a bow and an orgasm, but no less a means of subjugation. Did Fenris think he had to do this to protect her? Did he really think her life was worth that? Because it wasn't. It wasn't!

"Marian!" Fenris growled between his teeth. They were standing at the doorway of what was obviously a bedchamber. Hawke was snapped back to the present from out of the grip of her wild suppositions. "Enter!"

She followed the command without question. She was paralyzed by indecision and numb at the prospect of having no good options in this scenario. Should she make a scene? Was she prepared to kill an Archon? Could she kill an Archon? How was she going to protect Fenris? How was she going to protect herself?

She was startled again when the slave girl inadvertently brushed past her as she hurried over to Antonius. The girl grabbed a robe off the back of a chair and she held it out for him. He wrapped himself in it in one fluid movement, then spun gracefully and wrapped the slave in an embrace. The Archon kissed the girl deeply, passionately, tenderly. His hand came up to her cheek. His arm rubbed against her back. Hawke thought she actually saw the girl smiling underneath the kiss.

Hawke tilted her head, shamelessly watching the two. It went on for so long, she considered that she and Fenris might be able to just sneak away and avoid any of the bloodshed that would ensue if they were made to join in. Antonius eventually gently removed the girl from his lips. She bowed her head and stood with her hands folded again.

Antonius tightened the belt of his robe as he spoke. "Renna, I would like for you to take Magister Hawke back downstairs and entertain her for a while. Fenris and I have things to discuss."

"What? No! There's no way..." Hawke stood protectively in front of Fenris, as if there was something she could do. She was about to draw up her magic and say a prayer to the Maker when Antonius laughed.

"What exactly is it you are worried about, Magister?" He sat down in a chair, completely at ease. Completely the opposite of Hawke who was getting lightheaded under the weight of more negative emotions than she could count. "If I'm perfectly honest, I don't very much like men if that's what concerns you. Occasionally a 'discussion' is just that and nothing more. Does that make you feel better?" He was speaking to her like she was a child. Perhaps she had been acting like one. "I won't be fucking your elf, so you may rest easy. Go with Renna." He waved his hand as if to shoe her away. "Leave the men to speak. She will look after you." He waved his hand again this time at the slave girl. "Renna, now."

"Yes Master." The girl replied. Hawke turned to her. The elf stepped forward, head still lowered, and extended a hand to the door beckoning Hawke to proceed. "Mistress?"

Gears rotated in Hawke's head as she looked at the mostly naked elf, then to the Archon, then to Fenris. None of them were acting as if anything was amiss. She felt like the last sane person in Thedas. Perhaps she had always been the only sane person in Tevinter. "I..." She stuttered. "I'm not leaving Fenris." She moved closer to her stoic elf. "And I don't like girls." She added. Why she added that statement, she had no idea. She had lost control of this situation so long ago she couldn't remember what it was like to feel comfortable.

"I'm glad to know your sexual preference, Magister, however, Renna is mine alone, so you need not worry over unwanted advances from her. I would offer that she can find you another handsome male elf to occupy you while you wait, but I believe Fenris would take issue with that, so perhaps the two of you would simply care to walk the gardens. She will get you something to drink. It appears that you need it. Now leave. Your apprentice will fetch you when we are done here." His tone left no room for objection.

Hawke still didn't move from her spot. Nor would she. Fenris had ordered her not to leave his side. Even if he had forgotten, she hadn't.

And then Fenris leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Marian, I will be fine. I promise you. I want you wait immediately outside the door, where I can still feel you. Do you understand?"

Hawke reluctantly nodded her head. Fenris sounded sure of himself. Confident. It smoothed over her brittle nerves. Before she knew it, she was exiting the room, sex slave in tow, leaving Fenris with the scorpion.


	50. Fate

Fenris watched Marian leave. He knew without having to see her that she took up a position just outside the door as he had asked her to. It comforted him to know she was still close by and would remain so for the duration of whatever this interaction was going to be.

He looked over at Antonius, seated, legs casually crossed, hands folded in his lap. "Sit."

Fenris sat. He perched on the edge of the chair opposite Antonius, hands gripping his knees.

The two men sat in silence. Fenris's eyes kept wanting to deviate down to the floor. Years of trained deference was difficult to untrain. He did the best he could to force himself to look the Archon straight on, into his grey eyes. An old habit that he did allow himself was to wait to speak until spoken to. For anyone in this situation, slave or no, that was the safest option. He still had no idea why the Archon had freed him, why he was given Danarius's things, and why he was the one sitting here while Marian was in the hall. Fenris called upon every last shred of patience he had inside him, waiting for the human to speak.

"You love her?" It sounded like a question, but Antonius's face wasn't inquisitive.

Fenris didn't know what to say. To admit was to give the enemy a weapon against him. But to deny would be so obviously a lie. And presuming to lie to an Archon was not wise.

"Yes."

"Mm." The Archon nodded his head and looked past Fenris to the hearth at the other end of the large room that smoldered with a low flame. "There were only two possible outcomes to me bringing you here. I am pleased we were able to find our way to this one."

Fenris was no stranger to the idiosyncrasies of magisters, ranging from mad whims to truly dangerous urges. The strangeness of this man was new even for him. Fenris shifted his weight in the chair, searching his face for explanations. He reached out with new senses he was unfamiliar using, trying to feel the man's magic, as if it would help him defend against the unknown.

"The other outcome was less ideal. Your Marian would have attacked me to protect you. I would have had to kill her. You would have killed me. And then you would have tried to kill every mage downstairs and you would have died fighting them off."

Fenris held his breath. He moved his hands from his knees and dug his fingers into the armrests of his chair. He understood nothing this man was saying. It terrified him. He couldn't control his lyrium. It started burning. He frantically tried to settle it down. If Marian felt it she would burst in. She would do something stupid. The Archon's words would come true.

"Fortunately, we've moved away from that particular fate. So you should relax yourself before your woman feels something is amiss." Antonius was using a voice full of eerie calm that totally prevented Fenris from relaxing.

Antonius rose and moved to a small table by the hearth. He poured two glasses of an amber colored spirit. He walked over to Fenris and held out one of the glasses.

"It isn't poisoned." He said when Fenris didn't immediately take it and then he took a sip from his own glass to prove it. Fenris took the glass but didn't drink. Antonius moved back over to the hearth.

"I've seen my death countless times. And countless times I've avoided it. I learned a lesson very long ago, Fenris. Knowledge is the most powerful magic. That is not a lesson that is taught by the enchanters in the spires or the magisters to their apprentices. It is why I am Archon and they are not."

Fenris struggled to keep his breathing even. He quieted his lyrium. He controlled his magic. He listened closely.

"I want you to know that I could kill her as quickly as I draw my next breath."

Fenris couldn't stop his fist from shattering the glass in his hand. Antonius didn't acknowledge the sound of it breaking. The alcohol stung the lacerations in his palm and the amber liquid dripped with his blood onto the carpet. He remained seated, glad for the pain to focus on.

"It's just something you need to know. If I had needed to kill her I would have done so already. What I need is something else entirely. You should also know there exists a possible future where I can't get what I need from the two of you and I will be forced to kill her. Unfortunately, if that future comes to pass, I cannot see yet if I would survive it."

"You wouldn't." Fenris's voice came rough out of his throat. It was folly, he knew, but he couldn't stop the words from coming.

"That is a distinct possibility, yes, so I'd like to avoid that future if I can."

Fenris's patience was at an end and he now knew at least one of the rules to this game. "Speak plainly and just tell me how you would use me. You already know I will do anything to protect her. It is why I am here and she is not."

"That is true." Antonius finished his drink with one swallow and sat back down in his chair. "She's reckless that one. Powerful, but reckless. More emotion than knowledge. It's a wonder she's still alive. She's fortunate she found you."

"I'm the fortunate one." Fenris said. He was well past the point of strategy, so he opted for honesty.

"I would hardly call 'love' a fortunate circumstance. For either party."

Fenris felt the beginning of some kind of explanation in that statement, so he finally relaxed back in his chair and let the Archon continue.

"I'd like for you to understand several things that will help you to do the things I need of you. I know that the things I tell you will not find their way outside of this room, for all the reasons we've already discussed. I trust I was clear enough to not need to threaten your woman again. I will leave it to you to decide what you wish to share with her. At the end of this we'll see if you still consider yourself so fortunate to have found love."

And thus the Archon began an odd soliloquy.

"My mother was forced into marriage for protection. Her father was deposed from his position as Archon and assassinated; her brothers murdered. She managed to keep her life, but she found herself with a man she barely knew and didn't love who had no interest in loving her. He was, however, happy to love her money and she was happy when he wasn't forcing himself on her. Like most idle noblewomen, she eventually found solace in the arms of one of his slaves. An Elf. My father."

Fenris's eyes went wide behind the cover of the white hair that fell down his brow. He said nothing.

"My mother loved him, sad to say. A slave, an elf, not even a mage; my grandfather's proud and pure bloodline broken by desperation and the love that came of it. But from what I understand she was her own woman even before I was born, so perhaps it could have happened no other way. My mother's husband found out, of course. He knew he was unable to father children and in a fit of love addled spite my mother admitted everything to him. I'm sure you would think killing the slave, his wife and their unborn child would be the only option he could consider. But he saw advantage in his situation as a smart, if conniving, man would. Why squander the commodity the gods had seen fit to lie in his lap? His wife's infidelity gave him an opportunity to claim a son. A man with a son is a man with a stronger house, a secure position, and an unquestioned legacy.

And so he did claim me. And no one ever knew my true sire. My mother's husband had the elf killed. In front of her, so I've heard tell. My mother did her duty and raised me as her husband's son, but she made sure I knew the truth. Perhaps it was the only way she felt she could hold onto the strands of her dead love to be able to share the knowledge of my true parentage with me. She also made sure I learned the lesson she was never taught: Be strong and make your own path so that no one can steal it from you.

I learned the lesson well enough, but being able to execute it was quite another matter. I was a half blood human and worse, a half blood mage. I was late into my adolescence with no magic to speak of and she began to despair I would be entirely without. When I finally did manifest, she still had no cause for celebration because I was a mediocre mage at best. It seemed my fate would simply be to do whatever my step-father required of me, just like my mother.

But years of such a life, years of lamenting a lost love, drove my mother to take steps to assure her son would not suffer the same fate."

Antonius rose and wandered over to the hearth again. He poured himself another drink and again it disappeared with one motion. Fenris was enthralled. He continued listening.

"There was only one way to fulfill my mother's hopes for me. She helped me make a deal with a demon. She bled herself dry for me and I used her blood; the blood of a pure mage from an ancient family bred for powerful magic. It gave me power enough that every demon in the Fade fell at my feet begging for a taste. But which one to choose? In that position, should a mage seek strength? Ah, but there is always someone stronger. Should a mage seek a life filled with pleasure? Ah, but desires are all fleeting things. Knowledge, however, is permanent. Timeless. And more useful than any amount of strength or desire."

Antonius smiled, the expression a complex thing in the shadows of the firelight, full of memory, pride and pain.

"Fate had already been my constant companion, prisoner to it that I was. So it was only logical that I sought out the Demons of Fate."

The Archon strode over to Fenris and leaned down towards him looking into his eyes.

"The Fates gave me more knowledge than I ever could have imagined and I have used all of that knowledge to my advantage over the years. I see things in my dreams. When I sleep, the Fade I go to is alive like a tree with thousands of branches, each one a possible future. Knowing those possibilities and acting to force one outcome over another is what made me, a half-breed, half-blood mage, The Archon, and not just another pawn in the game.

My mother's sacrifice was not in vain. The first future the demons allowed me to see was one where I killed my step-father. And so the next morning I did just that. I watched him die at my feet and I hoped my mother was waiting for him in the Void so she could exact her own vengeance since she didn't live to share in mine."

A hoard of dragons could not have dragged Fenris from the room, so enraptured was he by the Archon's tale. The danger of his situation, Marian's presence outside the door, the shards of glass stuck in his hand where it dangled from the chair, all of these things were pushed to the fringes of his mind as he was drawn into the telling of Valen Antonius's past.

"As time passed, I became more comfortable with the visions and more skilled in executing my plans to extract the outcomes I desired. The Demons I had partnered with were more than satisfied by the casualties I left in my wake; made a sweeter feast for them, no doubt, because my opponents never saw their fate coming. Most of the time they never even knew who had brought their fate upon them.

And so I would have happily lived out my days, feeding the Fates and using their powers as my own. What did it matter after all if the bastard son of an elven slave left any legacy? I lived by the lessons my mother taught me. I had my vengeance for the tragedy that was her life and I lived mine as she would have wanted me to. If I left nothing in this world when I died other than the mystery of my successes then, so be it.

But the Fates, it seemed, had other plans for me."

Antonius now walked over to the door and stood before it, just staring at the carvings on the wood, hands clasped behind his back.

"I passed a pretty slave girl in the Markets one day. I had been looking for a boy to serve as my runner in the Senate. The merchant tried to sell her to me along with the boy but I had no need of a weak looking girl, who would likely just as soon die as be of any use to me. I left her there to be purchased by the next fool to come along wanting a warm place to store his cock.

But that night I had a dream. It was a cruel and agonizing vision. I saw that slave girl and I saw myself and I saw the spider's web of my fate bound to hers. I saw her in my bed. I saw her in my arms. I saw a future where I fell in love. I followed each thread of the web I would be caught in. There was joy and there was pain. A future where we lived and one where we died. There was a path where we walked together and a path where she was taken from me. This elf, this girl, this slave I didn't know but was fated to love.

I awoke drenched in sweat with panic gripping my chest. Even on this side of the Veil I could hear the Fates laughing at me. I knew my reckoning was upon me. The Fates wanted more than the scraps from my table. They even wanted more than just me. I was a hollowed out shell of a man. Powerful, dangerous, yes, but with no more substance to me than a bag of dead leaves. My Demons wanted to fill me up before they feasted on me."

Antonius's face twisted into an ugly visage and he spit on the floor. With a sigh he finally sat back down.

"That morning I went back to the slave markets and bought the girl. She stands outside the door with your Marian now. I loved her before I knew her. I loved her in my dreams in the Fade and I made it real. Like so many times before, I saw the future and I made it a reality, knowing it was the harbinger of my doom. I love her so much it aches and each time I lie with her I can hear the Fates laughing. And if that wasn't enough, my Renna loves me in return. It would be easier if it wasn't so."

Fenris sat up in shock when the Archon dropped his head into his hands. His next words were muffled but Fenris heard them so clearly they might have been spoken inside his head.

"She carries my child."

There was silence for a very long time. Fenris was overcome by what he had heard and what he was witnessing. A mighty Imperial Archon brought low by love. Antonius was overcome as well, likely for the same reasons. When he finally lifted his head, he had regained his cold composure. And it seemed to Fenris that it was even colder and more composed than before this story began.

"The demons will not take her away from me. They will not take my son away from me. I must sever my ties with the Fates. Whatever the cost. And you and your lover are going to aid me in this. It has not been easy to bring you both here, to draw you both into this. There were other paths I could have followed, other threads in the web I could have pulled, but you, her, us, this was my best chance.

I was the one who sent Loranus to intercept the Andrastian Seekers when they crossed our borders with her blood. I allowed the two of you to remain together. I watched you, studied you, saw your enemies, and mine, fall before you. I made her a magister, I freed you, I drew you down these paths and put you in the positions that would bring you here to this place, this moment. And now, you're here. And you will help me. You will help me defeat my Demons and save my love, if you want to hold onto yours."

Antonius smiled. Wistful now, with a sorrowful wisdom.

"So tell me Elf, do you still feel fortune has smiled on you by giving you love?"


	51. Grey

Hawke clicked the door shut behind her. She turned to face the dark wood and brought one hand up to rest on its surface.

"I'll be staying right here." She informed the Archon's slave.

"Yes, Mistress." The woman replied.

Hawke took a deep breath and backed away, taking up a position leaning against the opposite wall, staring down the door, wondering if she knew a spell that would allow her to see through it. She crossed her arms and frowned.

The slave stood, hands folded passively, the picture of serenity. Hawke found it unreasonably irritating.

Hawke felt dirty standing next to her. She felt dirty when they were wandering through the mansion. She felt dirty being in the presence of the Archon. She wanted to wash the sounds of sex out of her ears. The Tevinter heat was oppressive and the thin fabric of her dress felt saturated. By her own sweat or by the mist of incense and lovemaking hanging in the air she couldn't say. If there had been a desire demon affecting her earlier when she was kissing Fenris outside, then the thing must be otherwise occupied now, because she couldn't remember ever being less aroused than she was at this moment.

They stood in silence for a long time. Hawke huffed and shifted her weight. She paced, then leaned back against the wall. She huffed again and bit at her nails. At some point, she started talking to herself, pacing and murmuring impatient curses in Trade and then in Tevene for good measure. She huffed and then repeated the process.

"May I get you a glass of wine, Mistress?" The beautiful elf asked her after around the fourth course of pacing and cursing.

"No. Thank you." Hawke remembered that Fenris ordered her not to drink anything. "And I'm not your Mistress."

"Yes, Mistress."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Your name is Renna?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"My name is Hawke. Tell me, Renna, do you want to be free?"

"I do not, Mistress."

"Hmh." Hawke hadn't exactly expected a yes but the elf didn't even hesitate before she answered. The poor thing didn't know any better, but it was worth a try. "Just as well. Fenris told me I wasn't allowed to rescue any slaves this evening. And I'm not your Mistress" Hawke said for a second time. "Slavery makes me...uncomfortable." To say the least, she thought.

"Ah, yes, Valen mentioned you were from the Free Marches. He's told me there are no slaves there."

Hawke turned her head to the elf. She wasn't sure she had heard correctly. That almost sounded conversational and not deferential. She stood up straight and faced the slave. "Did you say 'Valen'?" Hawke thought that seemed a bit familiar for a slave, even one as intimate, to put it nicely, with the Archon as this one was. But, then again, she didn't pretend to understand whatever twisted etiquette was involved between Master and sex slave. "And I'm originally from Fereldon. No slaves there either."

Renna smiled shyly. She looked both ways down the hall and Hawke thought she saw her elven ears perk slightly listening for any sounds near them other than the hedonistic moans coming from below. When satisfied they were alone and outside anyone else's hearing, she continued speaking but she still wasn't quite looking Hawke in the eyes. "I imagine our land must seem very different to you. We have our ways and you have yours. I hope that you will come to be more comfortable here soon."

"I will never be comfortable with slavery." Hawke grumbled. "There's enough pain and suffering in the world, without having to sell people into it."

"As you say, Mistress. There is enough pain and suffering to be found everywhere I suppose. Perhaps we're just honest about it here."

Hawke cocked her head at the Archon's slave. She found that statement to be surprisingly insightful. Before she could explore this strange discussion further, the door opened and Fenris emerged.

Hawke was next to him in one step. She took a quick appraisal of his body, his lyrium and his magic. She felt satisfied he was well until she noticed his hand, cut up and bloodied. She grabbed it by the wrist and said, more scolding than she intended, "What happened?"

Fenris looked...bewildered. It was the only word that seemed to fit his expression. "It's nothing. I broke a glass of brandy." He looked from Hawke to Renna.

The slave bowed her head, gave him a small smile and said, "Thank you for your help Messere." And then she walked back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Hawke didn't have time to question the other elf's statement, because Fenris spoke.

"Did you talk to her about...anything?" He inquired urgently, seeming a little more like himself now that they were alone. His ears too now twitched, listening, and his eyes shifted from one end of the hall to the other.

Hawke felt lost, but that was absolutely nothing new to her these days. She was just happy Fenris seemed fine, if a bit on edge. "Actually, we had the oddest conversation. But it was about nothing of import really." She gingerly held Fenris's hand as she spoke, trying to heal it, but the finicky magic wouldn't come to her, distracted as she was by the evening's events. "Oh, fuck it all, I'm still a shit healer when I can't concentrate. I'm just going to make it worse if I try to mend these cuts. Can we have your sister do it when we get home?"

Hawke pulled loose the silk she had tied up in her hair and wrapped it gently around Fenris's wound. "Yes, of course." He said. "We may go now. We should go. Now. I have much to tell you. But obviously not here." When his hand was bound, he took hers and started leading her back downstairs.

For a brief moment she was relieved and she actually felt good. They had survived the 'party' with some semblance of virtue still intact. They had survived another encounter with Antonius, who made Hawke feel like there were scorpions under her skin. And she had survived being waist deep in Tevinter licentiousness without killing someone in indignation. But it was only for a very brief moment.

What Hawke hadn't realized was that she and Fenris had been seen following the Archon and his slave into his bedroom. And whoever hadn't seen them had heard about it in less time than it took to say 'fucked'.

As she and Fenris descended the stairs, the other guests made no attempt to hide their staring. And their whispering. And their leering. Hawke hadn't considered that, to these people, making use of slaves was very different than being invited to the bed of an Archon. One was so common it escaped notice; the other was apparently important enough to warrant gossip.

Under the burning glare of half the Magisterium, she and Fenris walked down the steps and through the mansion in search of an exit. She became acutely aware of their appearance. Fenris was minorly injured and still looked mortified. Her hair was messy and loose around her shoulders from hastily pulling it free to bind Fenris's hand. Under the circumstances it was enough for anyone to infer something. From this lot, Hawke guessed, it was enough to craft an entire story of perverse debauchery.

This was a walk of shame like no other. And she hadn't even done anything to be ashamed of.

Hawke made a decision right then. She would never attend another party in Minrathous again.

xxxx

Fenris almost carried Marian home to make the long walk go faster. As it was, he dragged her behind him most of the way and she practically had to run to keep up. When they arrived, most of the lights were out and the household appeared to be asleep. He was grateful there would be no chattering Dalish chit and no too-perceptive sister to deal with. He was also grateful to see the ever attentive Orana entering the main hall to greet them, uncorked bottle of wine in hand.

Fenris grabbed the bottle and upended it into his mouth right there; unceremoniously emptying the thing without even tasting it on its way down his throat. Hangover be damned, he needed to be drunk and he needed to be drunk now.

Orana yanked her hand back when he took the bottle from her as if she was scared she was going to be bitten. He didn't blame her. "I'll...um...I'll just bring more upstairs then." She offered nervously and ran off to the cellar. Marian had her hands on her hips. The material of her dress bunched up just slightly on her thighs from her widened stance. Her dark hair was in disarray and looked slick with sweat from the heat and the pace he forced her to keep to get home. He was already dizzy from the wine, having guzzled it far too fast. A drop of it lingered at the corner of his lips and he swiped it into his mouth with one of his cut fingers, the taste of blood mixing with the taste of the tannic vintage.

"I've heard all Tevinter wine is made from the blood and tears of slaves." Marian said, cocking one eyebrow at him.

He suddenly wanted the taste of Marian in his mouth too. "I told you that." He replied roughly before he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss. She let him, opened for him and hung against him with her arms reaching up to his neck. He was well and truly drunk now, but whether from the wine, his blood or from Marian, he wasn't sure. He released her and swayed a little when he stepped back. He steadied himself on the arm that she offered him.

"Love, whatever has you so disconcerted will be best discussed in bed. And after I get to down a bottle of wine too." Marian led him upstairs.

Clothes were discarded. Wine was brought and consumed. Shutters were opened wide to let in the poor excuse for a breeze on this night that was even too hot for Fenris. When they were both pleasantly affected by drink, having used it to wash away the memory of the more uncomfortable highlights of the evening, he was ready to relate the details of his conversation with the Archon.

He was sprawled upon their bed, next to Marian, when he started the tale. He began at the beginning and told her every word. She listened, silent. He stood up halfway through and walked in and out of the moonlight coming from the windows, casting shadows around the room. She sat up to watch him pace and she listened. He fidgeted with his hands, running his fingers along the lyrium in his arm and twisting the ends of the silk still wrapped around his unhealed lacerations. Her eyes followed his movements and she listened.

When he finished, he was spent. Having to live through the story twice, the second time feeling the weight of its implications, was more taxing on his psyche than he had been expecting. It was galling and terrifying at the same time that they were being drawn into a battle that was not of their making and not of their choosing; that they were to be forced into peril yet again, all to fight someone else's demons when they had only just defeated their own. Was he to risk losing his love for the sake of saving another's? It was maddening.

And yet he couldn't bring himself to hate. He didn't hate Antonius. That revelation made this situation even more disturbing. For the others who had earned his hate, which he had cut down using it, he spared not a thought for anything deeper than how much dirt it would take to fill their graves. And it was so much easier that way. His battles had been black and white.

But now he was drowning in shades of grey. It made him think of the Archon's eyes; grey with sin and grey with vice, grey with malice and danger, grey with fear and with love. He didn't hate the man. He couldn't hate him once he admitted to himself he would be doing the very same thing to hold onto Marian. Worse, probably, if necessary.

So he had made the decision. He would help Antonius. Because he had to. Because he wanted to. Because it was the right thing to do. Because this was their fate.

Fenris sat down on a chair by the balcony and looked out at a patch of black sky peppered with white stars. He leaned his arms across his bent knees, nervously toying with the expensive silk now stained red with his blood. He was certain Marian wouldn't understand. Some parts of her world were even more black and white than the night sky with its stars. Her loyalty, her fierce need to protect, her blind all-consuming love. He could only imagine these things would not allow her to see this situation rationally. She would want to clear the battlefield of their perceived enemies, not make bargains with them. Not help them.

"So what did you say to him?" She finally spoke.

"What do you mean?" He said, his voice tired.

"What did you say to him when he asked you if you still considered yourself fortunate to have found love?"

Fenris looked over at Marian. She was only a few feet away and his body ached to be even closer to her. His lyrium pulsed with her heartbeat and his magic clawed at his insides wanting to join with hers. He didn't really consider it a matter or good or ill fortune to love Marian. It was the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins. It was life.

"I told him that nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you."

Marian smiled. It spread slowly across her face. Her eyes crinkled and she laughed low in her throat. Easy, softly. She rose from the bed, moonlight shining on her skin and she came over to him. She pushed him back in the chair with one delicate hand and climbed up to straddle him. He shook his head, the motion tossing his hair away from his eyes so he could see her clearly.

"That was a good answer." She praised him through her smile. "If you say we help, then we help. And may the Maker preserve us for it because He owes us."

He looked at her dumbfounded. Of all the ways he expected her to react, submission without any kind of fight, or argument, or ranting, certainly wasn't one of them.

"Oh don't be so surprised! I'm not as black and white as you think." She stroked a finger along the length of one of his ears.

He shivered involuntarily at the sensation and she laughed again. He still sometimes fooled himself into thinking he wasn't as transparent to her as he obviously was. "Thinking of you as black and white, Marian is not meant as an insult. There was a reason the Archon presented this to me. He doesn't trust you will submit to his rules. He knows you are dangerous to him. Despite holding your blood, I could tell he fears you will try to act against him without thought to the consequences if you feel we are threatened. And I must admit I agree with him. Unfortunately, he knows I will play his game to keep you safe. This is no more than he is doing for the woman he loves."

"Exactly!" She declared, as if the inner workings of her mind were somehow made clear. Which wasn't the case, but fortunately she elaborated. "I'm also getting better at these Tevinter games, you see. I can respect the fact that Antonius is acting out of love. I'm glad to see at least one of the mages in this city, outside this house at least, isn't completely bereft of tender emotions. It makes him more human. Or more half-human. Or more half-elf. Whatever. Anyway, I see where the man is coming from and I want to help him for the sake of his love, and his woman and their unborn child. Buuuuut," She dragged out the word, sounding especially mischievous, "that doesn't mean I'm not going to try to use at least some of this situation to our advantage. As you said, he fears me. And he should. He should fear both of us. He's bought our help with my blood. But our loyalty he has yet to pay for. And he's going to need that too in the end if he really wants to win. Truly win. You Tevinters may be well versed in intrigue, but you clearly have much to learn about living life in love. He doesn't just need us to kill demons for him, he needs us to help him live."

He looked into her eyes and he knew what she meant. The air in his lungs. The blood in his veins. Life. There was so much more to navigating Life, than navigating mere existence in this dangerous and oppressive land. Having something you didn't want to lose was often worse than the wrath of any demon. It was, after all, how Fenris came to this moment in the first place. Because the Archon knew he couldn't lose Marian.

Was it possible Antonius saw in them more than tools to conquer enemies? Did some part of him know he would need honest allies in the days to come?

"But these are things to be addressed in the morning, love. Tomorrow we continue to move forward. We help the Archon. We build on the foundations we've dug here. This is our home." She waved her arm in a wide arc, gesturing outside at the city that lay sleeping under the night sky. "And it's a lovely shade of grey."

She brought her arm back between them. "For right now, however," She took his injured hand in hers, "I want you to concentrate with me."

A faint white glow started in Marian's hand and then traveled into his. He concentrated on it. He felt the magic in the light and it tingled as it worked its way into the lines of lyrium in his fingers. It wasn't powerful or even very strong at all. It was mild and cool.

"I know you feel it. But can you heal yourself with it?" Marian asked him.

He moved his fingers and turned his wrist, feeling the flow of the spell enveloping his hand. He didn't do much, he just let it be there and after a time the light faded away without him having to think about it or consciously dismiss it. Marian gently untied the silk and revealed his hand, mended by his own magic.

"Good as new." She beamed at him briefly, and then her shoulders slumped. "I should let you know though, that was pathetically weak. You're about as shit at healing as I am, but you'll make do, just like me." She stretched out the length of soiled silk in her hands. She flung it around behind his head, holding onto the ends and she pulled him towards her with it. He let himself be gathered into her and they collided into a kiss. The ache in his body eased, his lyrium sang and his magic was calmed. She twisted the silk around her fingers tightly and drew him in closer. The cloth rubbed at the nape of his neck and he felt his lyrium ignite down his spine at the sensation. She must have felt the wave of light move down his back because she moaned into his mouth and squirmed her pelvis closer into his lap. Her tongue eagerly sought out his and her legs squeezed around his waist.

His hands found her hips and he directed her wild writhing to the exact place they both needed her to be. She gasped when he thrust up inside her, her hands still pulling at the silk and her elbows now pushing against his chest as she rode him. His fingers rested at her waist as he let her control their pleasure. Her head fell back and away from their kiss and her hair shook with the motion of her body. Fenris looked his fill at the wanton woman giving herself to him and he wanted to cry out at the satisfaction of it all. Of being here with her, of being free. But he held it in, using that raw emotion instead to drive himself into her further each time she fell on top of him. She whimpered sweetly with need. Her head came back down and her mouth found the tip of his ear. She sucked deeply on it while she pulled at him with the silk. Her hips pumped with fevered movement and he felt her climax on top of him while she bit down on his ear. He couldn't possibly hold out any longer after that and with a pained moan full of regret that it was over so soon he came hard inside her.

When they stilled, she nuzzled against his shoulder, still intimately joined with him. He relaxed back into the chair and reached up to pull the silk from her grip. He slid it from the back of his neck. It still felt of magic and still smelled of her hair. He kept it in his hand as he carried her back to the bed. She rolled sleepily to her side and he pressed up against her back, preferring to feel her along his body while he slept despite the heat. As he drifted off, he rubbed the silk between his fingers. He held onto it and held onto Marian all night. She had taught him how to heal himself. He would hold onto that knowledge forever. He would hold onto her forever. And he thought he might just hold onto this bit of silk forever too.


	52. Perfection

For the first time ever, Marian had risen before Fenris. Morning sunlight was already spilling into the room when he woke. He looked down the length of his arm outstretched on the bed and found that she was no longer lying on top of it. He was, however, still holding the bloodstained silk ribbon. He dressed quickly, eager to see what could have drawn her from his side. Without really thinking about it, he absently tied the silk to his wrist and hurried downstairs.

He found her in the library, looking more bright eyed than he would have expected after the previous day. She was huddled over stacks of ledgers with the timid looking elf who had been Danarius's, now his, steward.

"Good Morning, love!" Marian called out to him jovially when he entered the room. The elf next to her straightened and backed away, seemingly not sure how to greet Fenris. He settled on bowing his head and stuttering out, "G...Good Morning, Master."

Fenris was glad when Marian corrected the man first. "Oh, come come." She said as she waved the demonstrative away with her hand. "I know the others already told you how we do things here. There are no slaves in this house no matter what these silly ledgers say."

"Y..yes, Mistress." The elf replied looking between her and Fenris with uncertainty.

"Hawke. Remember?" Marian said.

"Y...yes, Mistress Hawke."

"Close enough for now, dear." She soothed the man. Fenris realized he would be relying heavily on Marian's assistance in dealing with Danarius's slaves. His slaves, he thought with disgust. Just thinking about them made his skin itch along the lines of lyrium with nervous discomfort. It was discomfiting that he, a liberati himself, owed slaves at all and it was even more discomfiting that some of those slaves knew him when he was a slave. He wanted nothing more than for all of them to be gone. Their presence was a minefield of moral ambiguity bordering dangerously close to hypocrisy. For all these people knew, Fenris was just another corrupt mage now, having escaped from bondage only so he could claw his way up from the gutter, aspiring to count himself among the ranks of the Magisters.

But Marian would never let him cast these people out just to assuage his insecurity, nor would he want to subject them to that fate. He would have to find his footing around them, if they would let him. Just one more thing to learn, he supposed. He felt better, more full, for all the new things he'd learned up to this point, so perhaps navigating this as well would prove as rewarding in the end.

"It's about time you woke up, by the way. We have much to do, you know." Fenris found it not a little amusing that he was being scolded for sloth when he couldn't recall Marian ever being this functional upon awakening in the mornings. "Now," She continued. "You didn't quite have time to get his name when you were razing his previous home to the ground, but this is Dareth. He's your steward. He and his brother Moran were the only other mages Danarius had on the estate. As far as I can tell, Dareth's magic lies in being able to manage these books without falling asleep." Marian stuck out her tongue at the pile. Dareth brought his hand up to his mouth to hide a hesitant smile. "Moran has some skill in herbalism, so he'll be working with Merrill to start crafting us a supply of the necessities."

Marian seemed to be going down a list she had in her head. He thought she looked quite beautiful when she took charge of things like this, so he was happy to admire without speaking. "I've dispatched your sister to start building protective wards around the mansion. It never hurts to fortify one's position."

Fenris decided to sit. He folded his arms. She could be at this for a while. "With your permission," she said mockingly, rolling her eyes, "I'd like to have Dareth go and request us an urgent audience with Antonius. There's no end to the things we need to discuss with him, so best start as soon as possible. I'll be damned if I wait around for him to summon us again, like we're jesters in some Orlesian court. And while Dareth is out, he said that if he takes with him a signed and sealed letter from each of us to the Courts, he can make arrangements for emancipation petitions for all the slaves here. Apparently it will take time to get us a hearing with a judge, but that's to be expected. Government does tend to move at the pace of a lame nug."

"I have no seal." He replied simply, still somewhat amused by her myriad planning.

"You'll use mine for now. You're supposedly my apprentice, so it should be acceptable."

Fenris felt an odd swelling in his chest. It was a strange yet pleasing sensation. In all the ways that Marian had accepted him into her life already, the thought that she would so easily absorb him, an elf, a former slave, under her family's crest for the whole city to know was both staggering and humbling.

"Speaking of being my apprentice, it is high time I started training you like one." She put a hand on her hip and pointed at him with the other. "You're going to eat something quickly and then we're going into the garden and you're going to learn how to use your magic effectively if it kills me. And given your propensities in that regard, it might." She let both her arms fall to her side, making her look somewhat deflated. "I wish we had more time to ease you into this, but the Archon seems to have other plans."

"And Fenris," she tilted her head and asked, "why are you wearing my hair ribbon on your wrist?" She turned her nose up at the sight of the red blood saturated silk wrapped tightly around his wrist, its ends tucked in neatly. "It's filthy. And covered in blood. And probably sweat."

He looked down at it. He liked seeing it there. He brushed it with his fingers and magic tingled off of it at his touch and it soothed the lines of lyrium beneath it. It felt like the healing spell Marian taught him last night. He wasn't entirely sure why he had tied it on when he dressed and he had to admit its appearance was slightly gruesome, but still, he liked it. It reminded him of her, her magic, her riding on top of him, her healing him in more ways than one. "I care not about its appearance. I like the feel of it. And its smell. It smells like you."

Marian's nose turned up more. "Men. You're like Mabari. Honestly. It 'smells like' me?" She stepped over to where he sat, not at all embarrassed by the presence of someone else in the room. She leaned into him and rubbed her nose against his. "Why don't you just smell me."

She laughed when he pushed her away. "You are ridiculous." He said with embarrassment, burning red when he saw Dareth shifting uncomfortably trying to look everywhere but at the couple.

Fenris rose and went over to the desk. Taking a piece of bare parchment and a quill, he slowly and carefully penned a letter to the Judges requesting emancipation petitions for the slaves in his possession. Marian sat and wrote one as well, finishing much more quickly than he did. When he was satisfied his elementary script would not embarrass him further, he signed and sealed the document and handed it to his steward.

"You served Danarius long enough, I assume, that I do not need to remind you that silence is a virtue." There was an order in Fenris's statement to his soon to be freed slave. Enough gossip would be circulating about him and Marian after last night. Of course people would eventually find out they were freeing their slaves, but there was no need to hurry along the release of that information.

"Oh, of course, Master!" Dareth replied as he took the letter. "I wouldn't dream of speaking to anyone."

"Fenris. Call me Fenris."

"Of course, Sir. I will. And..." The man nervously turned the letters about in his hands. "Thank you." He bowed his head to Fenris again and then left to carry out his appointed tasks.

Marian watched the other elf leave. When they were alone, she changed a little. The face of a charismatic leader faded allowing a sad sort of anger to emerge. The change was reflected in her voice as well when she spoke. "He told me Danarius only permitted him to learn to read so he could take over his bookkeeping. Apparently the dear departed Magister couldn't trust anyone he wasn't able to control completely."

"That is not uncommon." Fenris said, finding himself not as moved as Marian was by that fact. He wished he wasn't so jaded, so he could share in some of her indignation, understand better the ease with which she cared for others, but that time had long since passed. He knew how to care for her and that was more than enough for him.

Some of her charisma returned with her next statement. "I've asked him to start teaching the other slaves to read. He said that he would."

Another item checked from her list, Fenris thought as the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk, but he said nothing.

She pointed her finger at him again. "Now. You. Food. Then fighting."

He found himself unexpectedly worried by the predatory smile she gave him as he moved to comply.

xxxx

She was already waiting for him outside after he finished his breakfast. Varania was there as well, the two Mabari sitting placidly behind her as she worked on some kind of glyph, presumably to help with protection of hearth and home. The garden here was not nearly as elaborate as that of the Archon's and not nearly as vast as those surrounding Fenris's derelict estate. There was only grass and tall hedges lining the walled perimeter. There was more than enough space for sparring, however, magical or otherwise.

Marian scowled at him as he approached. "What is that?"

"Excuse me?"

"No swords, Fenris."

He bit his tongue and set aside his blade, feeling suddenly less secure. And then the fireball hit him.

Square in the chest, Marian's attack sent him skidding backwards, flat on the ground. Though a bit shocked, he was undamaged. Physically at least. The same could not be said for his pride.

"Too slow." She crooned melodically, smiling all the while.

He leapt to his feet in one motion. He felt her ready another spell and he let his lyrium take over as he had countless times before, but this time something very different happened. His lyrium flared and without having to use his muscles to manifest its power, something just pushed out from inside him; a force of sorts. He blinked at the sensation and when he opened his eyes again, Marian was on the ground.

"Excellent!" She praised him from her back on the grass. She stood and dusted herself off. She clapped her hands together once and winked at him. "Now let's begin."

They went back and forth, dancing with their magic in a strange new way. Marian gave and he took, then gave back, earning more of her praise. She offered nearly constant words of direction, instruction and encouragement. Fenris had been trained to do many things, some easy, some so difficult the memory of them made his body ache inside and out. But no training he had ever experienced had been like this. He felt pushed and tested, yet supported. There was no punishment for failure. There were only firm words of correction and an opportunity to try again. She was guiding him through more than ordering him to follow.

It was...enlightening. All of it. The experience of using his magic, the feeling of it at his fingertips, the interaction with her as his teacher all represented a new level of freedom for him. And the thought that there might be other facets to life and freedom that he had yet to discover, but were out there waiting for him was intoxicating.

His random thoughts had proved distracting and she brushed off a poorly executed attack from him with a frustrated grunt. Fenris rested on his back leg in an open stance breathing heavily and sweating under the midday sun. Marian was postured similarly, a stern expression on her lovely face. He looked around the garden and discovered they had acquired an audience. It seemed like every stray member of their household was huddled in doorways, looking out windows, or gathered outside watching the strange branded elf and the eccentric human magister fighting each other with magic.

"You hesitate when you should act." Marian shouted at him. "If you were holding your sword you would use its momentum to follow through with a blow on instinct. It is the same with magic. You are thinking too much. It holds you back. Now, attack me again!"

He couldn't recall ever having been accused of thinking too much. Everything about combat he remembered being taught involved killing without thought because thought was something left to his masters. Of course he wouldn't let that kind of savagery enter into a sparring match with the woman he loved. If that could be considered thinking too much and holding back, then that was what he was doing.

She must have seen on his face when he came to that conclusion because she smiled and shouted again, "Did you fool yourself into thinking you could harm me if you didn't hold back?" She laughed. "Think again elf."

She attacked him and he found himself on his back again with the force of it. He took a deep breath and stood, slowly this time. She watched him warily. He concentrated on his magic, allowing it to pass through his lyrium. He closed his eyes and felt it rise around him, spreading out in a wave. He imagined it reaching out to attack her. The sunlight, still bright against his closed eyes disappeared, replaced by a thick blackness. He felt Marian stir her magic trying to unseat him again, but he envisioned grabbing hold of it and wrapping it in the darkness he controlled like a weapon.

He held her magic as if in his hands. He held it as he allowed the swirls of entropy to move about him. Disjointed sounds of chaos filled his head and he found the din comforting somehow. Phantom shouts, whipping wind, crashing waves, shattering, breaking sounds of destruction with no source and he controlled them all. He flexed his muscles and it grew louder, he relaxed and it grew softer. He started losing track of exactly how long he stood there exploring his magic and holding Marian's immobile in the darkness when he heard something else sneak through the noise.

fenris...

It was like a whisper in his ear that he felt on his skin more than heard, but it was lost just as quickly as it came in his expanding darkness that was getting too thick to allow the outside world to penetrate.

Fenris...

A bit louder this time, but then swallowed up again.

FENRIS!

It was a shout.

STOP!

A fist shot through the darkness and collided with his jaw, snapping his concentration and dissolving his magic.

On reflex he brought a hand up to his face and he opened his eyes. He looked around. Marian was on the ground holding her fist and gasping for air. A thin line of blood dripped from her nose. He heard the Mabari barking and he saw Varania, eyes wide and bent over, chest heaving for breath. He looked behind him and several of the closest slaves who had gathered to watch the fight were similarly struggling to take in air, being assisted by the slaves who were further away and those inside the mansion, all of whom were now entering the yard.

He cursed viciously and fell to his knees to help Marian. He was appalled. Somehow he had missed the line between 'not holding back' and 'killing everyone'. Whether it was the result of inexperience, his lack of control or the magnifying effects of his lyrium, he had nearly murdered them all. And Marian had to punch him in the face to stop him.

He heard himself sputter out some kind of remorseful noise as he gathered her up from the grass to hold her close and reassure himself she was alive and not permanently damaged from his attack. Her face looked to be contorted in pain. He cursed himself again and spoke her name in a desperate plea for her to respond. He clutched at her arms and was about to start shaking her.

And then he heard her laughing. Her mouth opened wide with it and her eyes squinted and she rolled around in his arms trying to regain her composure.

When she settled, she looked up at him and spoke, eyes bright, smile large. "Perfect."


	53. Knowledge

Hawke leaned back and took a sip of her ale. She looked across the table at Fenris who was arguing with Varric over cards. She inhaled the smell of hearth smoke and drunkenness that permeated the inn. Merrill and Varania were speaking in low whispers, hands entwined underneath the table. And Isabela was harassing her.

"You went to an orgy without me. Without me." She whined. "Do you have any idea how that made me feel?"

Despite the harassment, Hawke was glad she was here, sharing an evening gathered around a table with Fenris and her friends. Her family.

"Isabela, your life is an orgy. You don't need me to take you to one." Of course Varric had found out about their appearance at the Archon's gathering. And of course he told Isabela. Neither she nor Fenris offered any details, but she thought that might have made it worse. Isabela had quite an imagination. Hawke caught the other woman's eyes moving seductively over to where Fenris sat for perhaps the tenth time since they arrived so she changed the subject hoping to distract her. "And don't think I didn't see how much of my coin Varric gave you to repair your ship. We're more than even after the fire. In fact I'm fairly certain you should owe me now."

"I'd be happy to pay you both back, sweet thing..." Isabela's voice went low, her eyes never leaving Fenris. Fortunately he was losing too much coin to Varric to notice he was being undressed by Isabela's eyes. Hawke pushed the pirate's shoulder, trying to snap her out of whatever torrid fantasy she was conjuring in her mind.

It didn't work. "I've heard all kinds of things about those parties, you know. I've heard the slaves are kept oiled so they glisten." Isabela licked her lips. "Fenris..."

This was going nowhere good, but Hawke bit her tongue. No one could say she hadn't tried to stop this line of questioning. She would never admit she was impishly curious to see what would happen.

"...when you were a slave, did your master oil you up? Did you glisten for him?"

To Hawke's amazement, Fenris didn't react violently. He barely looked up from his cards and just rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

Isabela continued, a distant look on her face. "Always close at hand. Always within reach. Glistening."

"You have an entire story written in your head already, don't you?" Fenris laid down a card casually. Hawke was now totally impressed by his restraint.

"Mmm." Came Isabela's reply.

"Isabela, stop it!" An indignant Merrill cried out the order and frowned at the lot of them. "We've all heard just about enough of your dirty little fantasies."

Hawke hid a broad smile behind her ale. The fact that Merrill's protective streak was shining brightly enough over Varania to challenge Isabela was really quite wonderful, in her opinion.

Isabela was finally pulled back into reality. "Oh, kitten, I didn't mean to upset anyone. I'm just jealous is all. Everyone seems to be finding a sexy slave to bed but me."

Both Fenris and Varania finally looked up at that. They wore twin scowls, eyes shooting daggers at the dagger-wielding rogue.

"Enough, Whore." Fenris slammed his cards down. He would have lost the hand anyway, Hawke noticed. "I doubt your bed is ever empty."

"I don't have a slave to bed either, Rivaini." Varric pulled in his winnings along with the cards on the table. "But the elf's coin will be more than enough to keep me warm tonight."

Hawke took a deep contented breath. She had sat around countless tables laden with ale and cards on countless nights in the past, and though this night had a note of familiarity, there was something easier and more relaxed about it. Better. Less precarious.

She sat next to a man she loved; a man she was actually sure she loved whose only agenda was loving her back. She was free; free to be herself, a mage without having to constantly listen for the footsteps of templars behind her. This night was the joy of every peaceful night she had ever spent with friends without the anxiety and turmoil of her past. She thought that she could happily sit and enjoy a night like this every night until the end of her days.

She looked back over at Fenris and found him unabashedly staring at her. She blushed under his attention. Without words, he was telling her he wanted to leave and be alone. This night with friends was wonderful. But something better just presented itself.

Hawke finished her ale and rose, making lame excuses of fatigue and early mornings. She let Fenris lead her from the inn. As they exited, one of his hands rested on the small of her back, the other rubbed at his jaw. It had already started turning shades of black and blue with a hint of swelling from her blow earlier. He refused to heal it himself and wouldn't let anyone else heal it either. It was just like him, she thought, to carry the bruise around as a reminder of what he considered to have been a failure. Hawke, however, considered it success. She needed to make sure he could defend himself against anything. But not only defend himself, she needed to make sure he was capable of decimating any foe that might come for them.

Hawke huddled close to Fenris as they walked home, silent. She wasn't sure if it was the darkness or the alcohol that made him lose inhibition enough to put his arm around her as they went, but either way, she didn't care and was happy for it. Her fingers reached up to his where they dangled over her shoulder and she felt the spark of his lyrium-laced magic. He was strong, her warrior-mage, even without her teachings, but she needed to make him as strong a mage as he was a warrior.

Her mind wandered to her father. Everything she knew about strength she knew from him. Would that knowledge be enough for Fenris? Enough to keep him alive as Hawke had managed to stay alive all this time? Enough to keep him safe?

Her thoughts quickly moved to places she would just as soon leave be; thoughts she hadn't dwelt on in years. Could she have helped Bethany and Carver be stronger? Could she have helped her mother? Could she have helped Anders? It was she who should be wearing the mark of failure as a bruise upon her face. Had she even known enough at the time to teach any of them anything? Did she know enough now? Was she lacking some crucial bit of information, some deep understanding that her father had failed to impart upon her, having left her too soon? Would her ignorance doom Fenris to the same fate as everyone else who had dared to love her? It was unthinkable.

Hawke had grown cold despite the heat. She shivered against Fenris as they entered their mansion. As soon as they crossed the threshold he grabbed her by the arms and pushed her up against the nearest wall, smothering her in a kiss that warmed her through to her bones.

When he came up for air he moved his lips to her ear. "Stop thinking." He whispered softly, an echo of her earlier instructions to him when they sparred.

She sighed and nuzzled her ear against his lips trying to draw more attention from him. "What?" She said dreamily, her ruminations put on hold for the moment.

"Whatever thoughts had you far away from me, stop them." He sucked on the tender lobe and swept her up, carrying her to their bedroom.

When they were behind closed doors he put her down so they could free themselves from their clothing. He was quicker than her and she was still half-dressed when he pressed himself up behind her, one arm around her abdomen and the other pulling free the rest of her garments, nipping at her ear as he did so. When there were no more impediments between them he brought his head down to lick at the nape of her neck, pushing them forward until her legs met the edge of their bed.

Her troubled thoughts stopped troubling her at the feeling of his hardness flexing against her bare skin and she moaned, abandoning herself to him. His hand came slowly up her spine, bending her forward with the caress. She rested herself on the soft bedding and stretched her arms out clutching the sheets on either side of her head. His touch moved back down the length of her and he found a place for his fingers on her hips. He kneaded the flesh of her curves and teased at her damp core. She savored the slow building of her arousal, but right now she was too eager to lose herself to the blissful oblivion he offered her so she pushed herself back against him, pulling him into her in one motion.

He hissed at the shock of her tight heat, standing still for only a moment to gather himself before he started thrusting inside her. She relaxed against the bed and let him set his pace; slow at first and painfully deep. He murmured things to the ceiling as he worked her, offering her reverent praise and offering broken pleas to the old gods. He quickened his rhythm, faster and harder and she cried out incoherently when her climax washed over her, the slick of it covering him as he pounded in search of his own. When he came he fell against her, pulling her in and squeezing her tightly, whispering more shameless things against her ear that she knew he would never admit to saying outside of these moments. It was fine with her that there were parts of him only she knew. She wouldn't trouble herself anymore this evening about knowledge she feared she didn't have. She had this, and for now, it was enough to send her off to the Fade content.

xxxx

Hawke closed her eyes and slept. And then she opened her eyes and dreamed.

The Fade was dark, the red sky almost black, matching the water of the river before her. She looked across the water and saw a black-haired Fenris, his skin free of lyrium, sitting on the opposite bank. She smiled when she saw Varania seated next to him. They were talking. It seemed fitting the two might have more to say to each other in the Fade, where things didn't have to be so...real.

Hawke settled down on the sand, digging the toes of her bare feet into it, happy to sit alone and watch the siblings start their attempts at reconnecting.

An unexpected voice behind her made her jerk with a start.

"They're your family now, Marian."

Hawke turned towards the voice and backed away at the same time. She bit her lip and tears threatened to fall from her eyes. Father. She didn't speak. She couldn't. Be wary, she though, it's what he taught you. 

Malcolm Hawke smiled down at his eldest child and sat on the sand next to her. "I see you've taken to heart at least some of what I've taught you."

"You've never come to me in the Fade before." No matter how much I wished it. She eyed her father suspiciously, not willing to believe this wasn't some demon's torment, but hoping beyond all that was reasonable that he was really there.

"I won't ask you to talk to me Marian. As I said, I see you've learned my lessons well. I knew you might not believe it was me, but I had to see you anyway; sit with you, talk to you."

Hawke burned inside with emotions, with questions, with excitement, with pain, but she kept still and silent, not daring to move or breath for fear it would make the vision of her father fade away.

"You're not lacking anything if that's what you've been thinking." He got right to the point. He always did. "You bear no responsibility for the things that happened to Beth or Carver or your mother. Bethany would never have told you, but she wanted more than anything to be as strong as you. She thought it was unfair that you felt you had to take responsibility for all of them after I died and she wanted nothing more than to help you with some of that burden. That made her strong in her own way. And Carver wanted to forge his own path, away from all of us, away from magic, if only to prove something to himself. He wanted to be able to protect you and your mother without magic. His time in Kirkwall helped with his confidence. It drove your mother mad, but you taking him along with you everywhere, allowing him to fight at your side and trusting enough in his abilities to take him into the Deep Roads made him happier with who he was in the end."

Hawke couldn't hold back the tears anymore, so she let them fall, her heart breaking a little more with each one she felt roll down her cheek.

"You're mother wanted nothing more than for you to be free." Malcolm laughed. Hawke knew why. She never claimed to understand what Leandra ever wanted for her or from her, which had led to more than a few healthy mother-daughter conflicts over many years. "Mothers are complicated creatures, Marian. Hopefully someday you'll learn that for yourself. She'd be happy for you now, though. Proud.

But it is time for you to leave the memories of us behind. We're at peace, my dear Marian, and you need to be at peace with that. You need to focus forward on the family that is by your side now." He gestured his head across the water. "Him. And his sister. And your friends."

Hawke was past the point of caring about demons. She croaked out a plea, her mouth feeling thick with emotion. "Please tell me how I can help him." She felt a profound release in speaking. She was letting go of the weight of so many worries in front of the only person she had never had to be strong for. "It's stupid to think I will always be right there to protect him, but I can't..." She hesitated at the thought of leaving her most fragile vulnerability bare. "Father, I can't lose him. Ever. I just can't. Not him. Please, what do I need to teach him to keep him safe?"

Her father smiled a sage and knowing smile that soothed and relaxed her more than she thought was possible in the Fade. "Marian, I never taught you anything you didn't already know. I just helped you see it." Malcolm shrugged, and added with a lopsided grin, "In fact, to be perfectly honest with you, I never understood a damn thing about your magic. It usually scared the shit out of me."

Well, Hawke hadn't inherited her snarky nature from her mother.

Malcolm continued. "He's confused by his magic right now. He hates that the death and destruction he wields might have been a result of what was done to him. But he's terrified to admit that the darkness might have always been a part of him. Even if he never knows which is the case, and he never may, he needs to accept it. Just as you've accepted your magic."

"I think we both know that is very easy to say and very hard to do." Hawke scoffed.

"He's learned harder things. He'll learn this."

"Father," Hawke asked curiously. "How do you know all this about him?"

Malcolm was nonchalant. "He and I have spoken several times here."

"You've...what?"

"I like him."

"But, he's never mentioned..."

"I asked him not to. He's a man of his word, at least where you're concerned. But I wouldn't put it past him to be underhanded if necessary, which is a good thing. Too much honesty is hardly any fun at all. Speaking of fun, or lack thereof as the case may be, I never thought you'd fall in love with someone so serious and so...broody."

"Broody?"

"Honestly, Marian, if his brooding were anymore impressive women would swoon as he passed. You'd be carrying his broody baby by now."

"Maker! Father, please!"

"And stop worrying so much, my dear Marian." Her father's hand came up to her face, his eyes serious now. He almost touched her, but fell just short. "You always find a way to win." And with a wink and a smile, he was gone.

xxxx

"Who do you suppose she's speaking with?" Varania asked him.

Fenris breathed in the imaginary air of the Fade. He sat next to his sister feeling, if not relaxed, at least not aggravated. He replied. "It is her father. He's come to me here several times before. We've spoken."

"You've spoken with her father in the Fade before? Does she know of this? How could you be sure he told you the truth of his identity?"

"He asked me not to mention it to her yet. I agreed. As to believing his identity, trust me when I tell you they are very much alike. I can't imagine any demon wanting to behave anything remotely like the two of them."

Varania nodded her head, seeming to acknowledge Marian's unique disposition, and accepting that daughter would follow after father. The two of them sat in silence again.

Fenris watched Marian across the river, speaking with her father. He was glad Malcolm had finally gone to her. There was something infinitely reassuring about the man. For all of the humor and irreverence that Marian obviously inherited, he had none of the reckless spirit his daughter owned. He was calm and patient where Marian was fevered and restless. He was very easy to talk to and Fenris had found himself on more than one occasion revealing things to the man as he dreamed that he wasn't sure he would have revealed even to himself while awake.

Remembering his conversations with Malcolm, reminded of the feelings of security he had experienced on occasion talking with the man, Fenris suddenly felt emboldened. "Varania," Had he yet addressed his sister by her name? He wasn't sure, but it felt more normal than he had thought it would. "Do you remember anything of our parents?"

"Our parents were Dalish. We didn't know our father. Our mother was kidnapped by slavers while hunting far away from her clan. She was pregnant with us when she was taken."

"So we're twins." Fenris supposed he already knew that even if he didn't actually remember.

"You're the elder. Our mother said your appearance and manner favored him. Mine favored hers. He was a mage. She was not. Her Mistress was not entirely unkind to us. She was permitted to name you as I told you, and I was given a more Imperial-sounding name as payment for the allowance of naming her own first born." Fenris thought he heard long buried bitterness in his sister's explanations.

"She was proud, our mother, raised free and outside the sphere of human subjugation, but for our sake she never caused trouble. But as we got older we began to see that her subservience was very much against her nature. With adolescence, you grew more and more angry and resentful at our station and you found an outlet for that anger and resentment in competing to be sold to Danarius for his ritual with the promise of freedom for me and Mother for winning."

Fenris forced himself to continue listening. He had been the one to ask, after all. This was his choice. He would own it.

"We tried to stop you. You would hear none of it. When she... After..." Varania's voice started to crack. "We were freed as promised, but when she saw what they did you...Your memories taken...And you were so...changed." His sister paused and seemed to gather back her emotions before they over took her. "She took her own life. And I think she had the better outcome than the both of us."

Varania was done speaking. Not that there wasn't more to tell. There was a lifetime's worth yet to tell, Fenris knew, but for now, it was enough, and she was done. She gathered her arms around herself and just stared out at nothing. He wondered if she had ever considered the same option as their mother; the same exit from circumstances that were so unfair as to almost be unreal. His thoughts turned to his own history, his own circumstances and he realized he had never seriously considered suicide.

He looked out across the water again just in time to see Malcolm disappear away. Marian turned away from where the apparition had been back over to him and their eyes met. She smiled. And then he understood why, despite everything, he sought to live on.

"There is no freedom in death. At least in life there is always a chance for happiness." Fenris astounded himself with his statement. It was so utterly...hopeful, he could hardly believe he had said it.

Varania looked at him, equally surprised at his reaction to all this new knowledge. "Tell me then, Brother, are you happy?"

"No, but I am getting there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since I kind of introduced the fact that Fenris has been talking with Malcolm without any preamble, (I wanted it to be a surprise to Hawke, after all), I might write a little side thing with their first meeting. We'll see if they cooperate. Thanks for reading!


	54. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better the devil you know than the devil you don't...

"Oh, bloody Void! He's not going to make us wait for hours again, is he?" Marian threw her arms up in the air and then leaned back against the wall of the empty corridor. To wait. Fenris dismissed the slave who had ushered them into this hallway with a nod of his head.

"And if he did? It hardly changes anything." Fenris stood next to her, rolling his shoulders against the weight of the sword on his back, his eyes trained on the non-descript door in front of them. Dareth had managed to arrange for them an audience with Antonius. A few days had passed but when one of the Archon's slaves had come to fetch them very early this morning, Fenris was impressed by how soon they had been permitted to see him. Marian hadn't even woken yet. She fumed that she had had to wait days for a response to their request, she fumed that she was dragged from her house at dawn and now she fumed that she was waiting in a hallway in the bowels of the Senate building.

Fenris also leaned back against the stone wall and closed his eyes. He was mentally preparing himself to listen to Marian's complaints when the door opened. An armored templar exited and when he saw the two of them standing there he just nodded at them indicating they should go in. Fenris nodded back as the man walked away, the clanking of his armor echoing in the hallway. He opened his hand towards the door and allowed Marian to enter ahead of him.

The small room had no windows and was dim but for candle light. The furnishings were spartan, a desk, a few chairs. The Archon didn't look up from where he was seated at the desk, but Fenris bowed and pulled Marian down with him, keeping them bent until Antonius spoke.

"Is there something you need?" He said with an impatient air, still not looking up, signing his way through a stack of documents.

Before Fenris could answer for them, Marian rose and said more loudly than was necessary, "Is there something we need? Us?" Laugher came into her voice. "Excellency, we're here because of what you need."

The Archon set down his quill and finally looked at them. He turned his head to Fenris, his grey eyes reticent. "From the Magister's irreverent and very inappropriate tone with me, I gather that you've told her not only what I require of you, but my motivations as well?"

Fenris looked between Marian, with her smugly raised eyebrow and Antonius, with his taciturn but intimidating glare. "You did say I could share what I wished with her, Excellency. There is nothing I would keep from her." Those points of fact were as forward as Fenris was prepared to be. As it was, it was possible he would be forced to grovel if only to compensate for Marian's disrespect.

Antonius turned back to Marian. "I am exceedingly busy Magister Hawke. There can be nothing you need that cannot," his eyes narrowed, "will not, wait until I summon you both."

To any sane person, that very incisive statement would have been more than enough to draw out an apology, a bow, and an exit from the room. But if Fenris was certain of anything at all, he was certain his lover was not what would be considered entirely sane.

Without an invitation, Marian sat down in one of the chairs across from the Archon. Fenris remained standing. The two seated mages stared at each other for several moments without speaking.

"Excellency," Marian started. Fenris was relieved that she at least used appropriate address. Given the condescending mood she was clearly experiencing, he had almost been expecting her to call the man Valen. "You should be thanking Fenris for telling me everything. If not for the honesty we two share, I can assure you my compliance in addressing your needs would not have been given so freely and without a fight." Antonius remained silent, so Marian continued. "And since we're on the subject of what Fenris and I share, I'd like to point out that we share equal say in the decisions that affect the both of us; so you should also thank him for agreeing to help you, because if he hadn't, I can also assure you, we wouldn't be here." Marian leaned forward a little in her chair, propping her hands against the sides. "You see, Excellency, he and I are equals." She let the last word drip slowly from her tongue, over accentuating its syllables with her southern accented speech. "It is a concept I'm not sure you are aware exists."

Fenris was about to shut her up and apologize when the Archon leaned back in his chair, arms folded, and countered. "You are fabulously naive, Magister Hawke. Is that what you learned in Fereldon running from templars? That 'everyone is equal'? Is that what you learned in Kirkwall? When they drove you out like a plague? The world is defined by inequality. And I am well aware of the existence of that concept. There are strong and there are weak. There are brilliant and there are dimwitted. There are winners and there are losers. And none of those things are equal."

Marian's voice grew louder. "So you want us to kill demons for you, to protect you and your lover, why? So she can live on as your slave, carry your bastard child and continue to service you at parties? Was she given any choice in this?"

Fenris wasn't sure if the Archon's laughter was reassuring or frightening. "Choice?" Antonius chuckled out. "You mistake choice for freedom, Magister. Take Fenris for instance. When he was on the run from Danarius, he was still a slave with no more freedom than Renna, but he could choose where he went, choose who he killed and who he let live, he could choose to continue running or choose to return. And now he is free, but what choices does he have? He has no choice but to be standing here right now. He has no choice but to comply with my orders. And if he wants to continue to live as a free mage, he has no choice but to remain in Tevinter. It would seem to me he had more choices as a hunted slave. So in answer to your question, yes, she had a choice and she continues to have a choice. And she will continue to be my slave, because that is the way it must be. Despite what you believe, the two are not mutually exclusive."

Fenris didn't appreciate his life being used as an example and he was about to offer an objection, but Antonius continued on without pause, his eyes serious now. "What choices do you think I have here? Would you have me free her? Marry her? Profess my love for her in front of the Magisterium? The only thing that would accomplish would be to strengthen the hands of my enemies. They would think I was an abolitionist. Are you aware of what happened to the last Archon who tried to free slaves? He was assassinated. In my position, showing that kind of weakness would be a death sentence for us both. It would only be a matter of time before you could take bets on whether the demons would come for us first or the Magisters in the Spires that I rule over. And it is only by the grace of the old gods that any Archon is able to rule over this nest of vipers at all. None of us have any choice, Magister Hawke. I have always done what I must to maintain order and to stay alive. I do what I must to keep her alive. And the two of you will do the same."

Marian was an idealist. She wasn't an idiot. Fenris saw her arguments crumble under the weight of the Archon's truth. With pursed lips and white knuckles she silently agreed with him. But that didn't mean she was finished.

"I will give you a choice right now, Excellency. We will kill your demons for you because we have no choice. But after that, what will you do with us? From what I understand, the seat of your power will be taken away if we succeed. You will have no more visions of the future to guide you and give you the upper hand. What then? Will you still be able to stay alive and maintain order?" Marian paused, letting the reality of her words linger in the room before she continued.

"If you give us my blood back, you will have our loyalty. As you said, two mages, neither of whom would be able to escape notice on the run, have no choice but to make a life in the Imperium. We can, we will, keep you in power and keep your family safe. You will be the only person in Tevinter, possibly the only Archon in history to have two such allies that you can trust. The other magisters are already running in fear of Fenris, and I would set my magic against anyone of them and I promise you I would be the stronger mage. And who knows? It may be possible to free your woman and acknowledge your family if you have us to strike down any who would oppose your decision to do so." Marian sat back in her chair, her gambit laid out. "This is my choice, Excellency. I choose to support you...if we can agree on these terms. In spite of everything, I'm finding you the least of the evils Fenris and I have been forced to deal with together. And as they say, 'Better the demon you know'..."

Antonius was no idiot either, and the weight of Marian's truth landed heavily on his shoulders. With a furrowed brow and a deep breath, he silently agreed with her. But that didn't mean he was finished.

"I will consider your request pending the success of our venture." The Archon offered a thin smile. "If you die, it matters not."

"And if you die?" Marian asked in challenge.

"Then you will be too busy trying to survive the chaos of the power vacuum that will come after to worry much about choices."

They all sat in silence again; each one considering the hesitant accord they had come to, but Marian's impatience got the better of her. "We should finish this now. The longer you have a demon at your back, the harder it will be to kill." There was scolding in her tone. "Such is the way with blood magic."

Antonius took up his quill again and went back to sorting through documents. Gone was the man who needed their help and the ruler of the Imperium was back. His response was appropriately imperious. "Now is not the time. I have several fires still to put out, left over from Danarius's ill-fated attempt at rebellion. If you had left my Executor alone, I would not have to personally address these things. As it is, I still require the..." he considered his next word carefully, "...services that I have grown accustomed to utilizing. When I have things under control once again, I will send for you. Not before. Now, you may go."

Marian was incredulous and Fenris wholeheartedly agreed. "You're joking!" She wailed. "Do you have any idea the peril you are subjecting yourself to? And the woman you love, for that matter! You cannot trust a demon to be used until it is no longer needed and then submit itself for execution! Your situation grows more unstable by the day. Tell me something Excellency..." Contempt seethed around Marian. "When we first met, I sensed no magic on you. Is that because you've given the demons control over it? Exactly how much of your own magic are you pouring into the Fade to feed these demons and conjure the visions of the future? It is only a matter of time before you can no longer keep your demons locked up in your dreams. They could come spilling out around you at any moment, eager to consume anything and everything on this side of the Veil as well. I say again, such is the way with blood magic."

Fenris knew before the Archon even responded that Marian's impassioned speech fell on deaf ears. "Your concern for me is touching." Antonius said curtly and not without sarcasm. "Now, you may go." He said it more forcefully a second time.

This time, Fenris did pull Marian up from the chair and escorted her out of the room. For all of his vulnerabilities, despite his history and his current situation, Antonius was still a slave to his environment. Fenris knew that the man legitimately believed there was no other way to proceed. He knew the Archon couldn't fathom that there did exist a choice between holding onto your soul and surrendering it to demons. It disgusted and saddened Fenris at the same time.

Fenris listened to Marian grumble about their encounter the whole way home. He interrupted her when he remembered he had a question. "Do you trust Antonius enough to help him retain his position moving forward after we have done what he asks of us?"

"I don't trust him now, no. But I can see that he has enough qualities in him that, if sowed properly, may grow into trust in the future. It is something worth cultivating not only for us, but for everyone. If he can be swayed to fall in love as he has, then maybe with some help, he can be swayed to make other changes...in time. Do you remember when you told me that opposing slavery here wasn't a fight I could win? Well, I've decided to take that bet, and if I can get an Archon on my side, I may just be able to win. And if we get to kill a few blood mages and demons along the way, all the better." Marian winked at him and smiled. She grabbed his hand and held it while they walked. He allowed it without complaint.

He looked down at her fingers clasped with his as they swung between them. He was reminded once again just how different she was to every other mage he had ever known. Where others were swept up in what they thought was inevitability, she dared to choose.

xxxx

"Are you coming up to bed?" Marian said sleepily as she peeked into the library.

Fenris was sitting by the light of an oil lamp reading a book. The first one, in fact, that he chose himself and decided to read for pleasure. He was halfway through and had yet to require Marian's assistance. It was immeasurably satisfying. "Yes, I'm coming."

"Not yet, but you will be..." Marian remarked cheekily, and then she giggled and ran away.

With no one to see, Fenris didn't bother to hide his smile. And with no particular threat looming, Fenris didn't rush to follow her. He was growing more accustomed to having free time on his hands.

Days had passed since their meeting with the Archon and they had not been summoned back yet. If the subject was brought up, Marian was reminded of her ire at the fact that Antonius was being so cavalier about continuing to consort with demons despite the ever increasing risk. They attended another session of the senate. There was nothing of vast importance discussed, and Marian had not even been instructed as to how she should vote, so inconsequential were the items on the docket. To Fenris's pleasant surprise however, she paid attention to the debates, considered her votes carefully and cast as her conscience determined. He was pleased to see her settling into her role and taking it seriously. It boded well for their long term survival. Antonius was present at the session, but didn't even spare them a glance. The only other thing of note that occurred was that when role was called, Fenris noted that several more magisters were absent and a few new ones had taken their places. He took that as confirmation that Antonius had succeeded in 'putting out' the remaining fires of rebellion. But still he hadn't sent for them.

Fenris found himself relaxing into an odd state of domesticity. He trained with Marian daily and they sparred with both magic and blade. He worked with Dareth addressing issues, making plans and generally doing what was required of him in terms of managing his estate. He occasionally spoke with his sister, each time the angst between them slowly ebbing. He drank wine and now, he read. It wasn't so much that they were experiencing a period of calm that surprised him, but that he found himself to be comfortable with it.

Fenris set down his book, extinguished the lamp and rose to make his way up to bed. On the way he ran into Merrill, apparently having come from the garden because she carried an armful of flowers. She smiled brightly at him and started chattering immediately.

"It's lovely and cool out tonight, but it just started to rain, so I decided to come back in. Did you know some of the hedges in the garden started blooming with these lovely flowers? I picked some for your sister. Did you know yellow is her favorite color? Green is my favorite color. I think it's going to storm quite heavily tonight. The clouds looked very angry. Do you want one for Hawke?"

Merrill held out a flower to him, a red one. His first instinct was to dismiss the silly elf out of hand, but he caught himself. There was no reason for it. He didn't hate her. He didn't hate anything at the moment, so he simply took it from her and watched her skip up the stairs.

When he entered their bedroom, Marian was shutting the windows against the rain that was indeed starting to fall heavily as Merrill had predicted. He walked over to her and handed her the flower, then he moved to the bed and started to undress.

"Thank you." She said with a bit of surprised laughter. "Don't tell me you were picking flowers with Merrill?"

He rolled his eyes and he rolled out of his tunic. "Don't be ridiculous. She gave it to me to give to you."

"Oh, well good. I almost worried you were possessed by a cheerfulness demon."

He wasn't really bothered by her teasing, but it felt more normal to pretend that he was. "Are you coming to bed or not? I believe I was promised something earlier..."

She jumped in eagerly after him and they slid between cool sheets. They made love to the sounds of thunder and lightning gathering outside. When they were both sated, they fell quickly into blessedly dreamless sleep.

xxxx

Hawke hadn't been dreaming. The sounds of thunder and lightning kept her from a deep sleep. She heard the sounds of footsteps in the hallway before they arrived at their door. Fenris heard them even before her and already started sitting up when Varania burst into their room, the doors slamming back against the walls with the force of her entry. Merrill was right behind her and both of them were only hastily half-dressed.

"The wards I placed around the mansion..." Fenris's sister started, a bit out of breath. She inhaled deeply while Hawke and Fenris held their breaths. When she exhaled, the crack of a lightning strike and the boom of a thunderclap punctuated her words. "Someone approaches."

Fenris was out of bed before Hawke, pulling on his leggings and grabbing his greatsword in less time than it took her to even find her clothes. When she didn't succeed in locating any of her own garments, she grabbed Fenris's tunic and threw it over her head. Fenris was through the bedroom doors and starting down the stairs. She swiped up one of her daggers and chased after him, Merrill and Varania following.

The rest of the household was still asleep and the mansion was entirely dark. The four of them ran to the front of the house on instinct, not exactly knowing the direction of the nameless threat that had activated Varania's protection wards. They all stood in the entry hall, the magic of four mages causing the air around them to crackle in time with the lightning outside. Fenris had his greatsword ready and his lyrium was the only light available. Hawke looked all around, not with her eyes, but with her other senses. She circled around, eyes closed, trying to feel.

Something outside made her tingle, at first a little distant and then rapidly coming closer. She opened her eyes and followed the feeling to the front door. As soon as she stepped in front of it, someone started banging on it from the other side. The only person who didn't jump was Fenris. When her heartbeat resumed, she reached to open it, then jumped again when Fenris shouted at her.

"Marian! Are you mad? Do not open it!" He came up beside her.

She looked up at him, unable to hold in a very inappropriate smirk. "Demons probably wouldn't knock." She said and opened the door.

It turned out she was very wrong. A cloaked and hooded figure stood in the doorway. A lightning flash in the sky illuminated the soaking wet man from behind. He carried another person in his arms. He raised his head against the pouring rain and under the hood Hawke saw desperate grey eyes.

The Archon spoke, his voice cracked with fear and even covered by a loud roll of thunder, Hawke heard him.

"Please! Help us!"


	55. Trapped

"Fucking Void!" Marian allowed herself only the one expletive before she took command. She pulled Antonius into the mansion by his arm and he stumbled inside, clutching Renna closer to his chest. Fenris slammed the door shut behind them. Marian had already started ushering the Archon forward.

"Are you injured too?" She shouted at him. "Can you carry her upstairs?"

"I'm fine! She needs help!" He shouted back.

"We'll help, don't worry, just go quickly." She pushed him along up the stairs. Merrill and Varania rushed ahead and Fenris followed them.

His sister led them to a spare bedroom. Merrill lit a fire in the hearth with magic and it roared immediately to life. Varania pulled the sheets away and gestured for Antonius to lay down Renna on the bed. Fenris saw the man's fingers trembling, droplets of water running off them, as he released his burden. Varania's hands were on her almost immediately, the blue light of her magic moving along the other woman's body. The motionless form on the bed was slightly drained of color and her eyes were closed, but Fenris couldn't see any obvious wounds that needed healing.

Marian noticed the same thing and demanded of the Archon, "How is she hurt?"

Antonius was still breathing raggedly, hunched over his lover and holding her hand in one of his. The other hand gripped the bedsheets with white knuckles and Fenris saw his jaw clench at the question. Before he could respond, Varania answered for him.

"She's only asleep." His sister said with a grave sort of relief. "But I can't wake her. She's...trapped." Varania's hands dropped to her sides, helpless.

Fenris sought explanation from his sister, ignoring the stricken man on his knees. "She is trapped...in a dream? How is that possible? She is not a mage."

"The boy inside her is." Varania said with absolute certainty and she started removing the woman's soaked garments, covering her with the bed clothes. Fenris couldn't help but notice Renna's belly was just barely starting to show the pregnancy.

Marian groaned and rubbed her eyes. She was unable to look at Antonius when she asked him, her voice soft but harsh, "How did this happen, you damned fool?"

He spoke through gritted teeth; his pain and urgency so evident and so different from his usual deliberate calm. "We were asleep in our bed. I was in the Fade. It was no different than any other dream."

"Any other dream," Marian repeated, "or any other dream of yours?" She asked with obvious venom.

Antonius straightened and stepped towards her, anger raging behind his eyes. Fenris inserted himself between the two, allowing his magic to spark through his lyrium in a bright flare. "Explain." He demanded, clenching his fists at his sides and exercising restraint in his display. "Tell us what we need to do, and it will be done as we promised, but do not think I will permit you to hurt anyone else tonight." Fenris surprised himself at the bold assertion, but it was the truth. He would kill the Archon and his slave before he allowed him to even glance threateningly at Marian.

The Archon showed enough sense to back down given the situation. He settled his breathing and found his calm again when he spoke to Fenris. "Contrary to your prejudices," he said with a malicious curl of his lip at Marian, "I have always been able to exert control over which visions I choose to explore. I have purpose when I dream. I have a plan, an agenda. It is a means to an end. I take what I need and I leave."

Marian opened her mouth as if to offer another scathing retort, but Fenris silenced her with a glare.

Not helpful, his narrowed eyes told her, let him finish.

He should have listened to me, her stubbornly crossed arms replied, I warned him.

Fenris's eyes softened and silently said, I know, before he turned back to Antonius.

"Since that first time I saw visions of Renna, which was even before I accepted her into my life, I have steadfastly avoided all contact with any image of the future that involves her or us. I've even kept the visions I needed to see regarding my own future separate from those concerning our relationship. I have held her apart from all of this."

Marian's outburst wouldn't be quieted by Fenris this time. "You accused me of being naive, but you don't see it in yourself!" She shook her head in disbelief and explained what Fenris knew to be true, but when put to words with Marians own lips, his heart swelled with warmth. "When you are in love with someone, your futures are entwined in ways that cannot be separated." He knew she was speaking not only of Antonius and Renna, but of Fenris and Marian.

While the statement was a point of pride for Fenris, it was a knife in the gut of the Archon. And Marian twisted it. "Did you think you could hide such a deep emotion from a demon simply by ignoring its existence while you were in the Fade? You underestimate the demon, and you betray the emotion."

The hardened defensiveness of Antonius withered before their eyes. The man's remorse was palpable and Fenris was nearly overcome by pity at the sight of the Archon struggling to contain his raw sorrow. Fenris could be sympathetic where Marian could not. In many ways he was just as naive and, if not for her patience and persistence, he would have had no more idea what love meant than Antonius.

Fenris was moved to stop Marian's thoughtless, if deserved, assault. "Marian..."

"No, Fenris, she's right." Antonius bit out the admission, but it was an admission, which was no small feat for the ruler of an empire.

And that was enough to move Marian. She took a deep breath, paused and stepped back, giving Antonius a bit of space both physically and emotionally. When she spoke again it was with the cold concern of a tactician. "Your dream turned into something different tonight though, didn't it?"

Fenris pulled over a chair and placed it by the bed, indicating for Antonius to sit. He slowly sat down and continued his explanation.

"There was nothing else I foresaw needing." Antonius shook his head and appeared distant, hollow. "My political power is consolidated. I've taken care of every possible eventuality. There is no one to oppose me, at least for the moment, and with your offer of allegiance," he looked at Marian, "which I had intended to take, I felt secure in finally cutting off my link to the Fates. I was going to send for you in the morning to discuss our options, but they played their hand first."

Marian didn't speak and Fenris was grateful. She didn't need to say what was already known. There could be no other man in Thedas who knew he had made a mistake better than the one before them.

"I heard laughter." Antonius bit his lip, and Fenris knew the look of someone trying to push back fear and hold onto anger to get through a trial. "I don't know what made me look for its source. I wandered the halls of what appeared to be my mansion. Every room was empty until the last one I came to, a room that doesn't exist on this side of the Veil, located at the end of a long corridor that is equally absent in the real world. I approached the opened door and the laughter grew louder. It was a sweet and happy sound. It was a child. Firelight flickered in the doorway and it looked so inviting. When I finally reached it and peered inside I saw Renna with a small boy.

I thought it was just another vision. It was a desirable fate. The one I wanted. For a moment, I thought seeing it meant that I had succeeded in maneuvering our lives exactly where I wanted them." The man's head fell and his hand reached back up to grasp at Renna's where it lay atop the sheets. "I was about to enter the room. Renna saw me and smiled. Our son looked up at me and smiled. But I hadn't even taken one step when her face changed. She pulled up the boy into her arms and screamed at something behind me. I turned and saw the Fate demons. They were laughing. It was a vile and grim mockery of my son's laughter that they lured me in with. When I turned back to try to get to Renna, the door slammed shut with her and our son behind it, and I was forced out of the Fade, the demons' laughter still in my ears." Antonius brought his hands up to rub at his ears as if he still couldn't rid himself of the sound.

"I woke up in our bed and she was beside me as you see her now." And then he brought his hands down into his lap and rubbed at his wrists. "I tried..." Fenris would swear he saw Antonius close his eyes against tears. He let the sentence hang there, unfinished.

Marian and Fenris leaned forward waiting for more, but then turned to look at Merrill who came slowly closer to the Archon from where she had been standing with Varania. "Hawke..." she said tentatively, "he tried to bring her back. He tried to use blood magic to wake her from this side of the Veil."

Fenris noticed them for the first time then. There were cuts on the man's wrists that he hadn't bothered to heal or even bandage, smeared with his own dried blood. Antonius brought his defenses back up and his hands balled into fists. "I had only my blood to use. I could have succeeded if I had used her blood too, but I just..." His voice faltered. "...I couldn't..."

Fenris expected outraged shouts from Marian, but he was again impressed by her practical response. "It is better you failed. And you did the right thing not trying to use her blood as well. You might have succeeded, and then there would just be more demons to deal with. We will have our hands full as it is."

Despite the fact that they were every bit as trapped in this fate as Renna was, Marian clapped her hands together once and smiled a devious smile that would send any demon running for oblivion. She addressed the room with a clear voice. "We just need to focus forward and we will bring her back. And we will erase these demons from the Fade and from our lives."

Fenris looked at her, unsurprised, but no less in awe. Even as she stood still, he knew in her mind she had started their march forward on the path to defeating these demons as she promised she would. Fenris saw the fire in her dark eyes that spoke of determination and an absolute certainty that victory was within reach. By now he was accustomed to the feeling of her leadership and he felt himself being pulled into the expanding vortex of her confidence.

He knew Antonius felt it too; still distraught, a bit doubtful, a great deal frantic, but no less overcome by the force that was Marian.

If they succeeded, Marian would have earned herself another devout follower, but that moment of triumph was so far off as to be totally nonexistent to Fenris right now so he simply prepared himself to be swept up into another fight at her side. This was just another desperate dangerous battle that needed to be won, that would be won. And he hoped his subsequent fate at the end of this included a return to quiet nights, bottles of wine, half read books and Marian waiting in his bed.


	56. Fall

Hawke barked out orders. "Merrill, wake Orana and bring her here. Fenris, wake Dareth and his brother and have Moran bring the lyrium potions he's stocked."

The two of them each nodded and left the tense scene to rouse the household. "Varania, would you mind please healing his Excellency's...wounds." Hawke's lips curled distastefully around the word. That request was more for her than Antonius. The signs of attempted blood magic on the man's wrists were making her uncomfortable.

Merrill and Fenris returned together, with three sleepy, but fully dressed elves marching behind them. Which was more than could be said for Hawke and Fenris, who were both still only half covered by Fenris's clothes.

"First of all, Fenris and I are going to finish dressing, and Orana, would you mind getting some dry things for our guests to wear." Hawke gestured to Antonius, who was still dripping rainwater on the carpet.

Moran had an armful of flasks and was arranging them on a dresser at the far end of the room. Dareth had a decanter of brandy under his arm and his fingers held several glasses. He set the things down on a table by the fire and started pouring. Antonius got the first glass and threw it back instantaneously, after which Dareth already had another glass ready and placed it into the man's hand. He took the empty one back with a bow. Fenris shook his head when offered but Hawke took hers and repeated the Archon's actions, the warmth of the spirit washing away some of her trepidation. Either that or it washed away some of her common sense, which was also a good thing. Whatever they were going to be doing, she was certain she would need to do away with most of that.

After she handed her glass over to Dareth, Fenris led her out of the spare bedroom back to their own to dress. She shut the door behind them and pulled Fenris's tunic over her head. She tossed it to him while she swiped up her own clothes from the floor. When they were both presentable, she made to leave the room and go back to Renna and Antonius, but Fenris stopped her, grabbed her arm and spun her towards him.

"Do you even have any sort of plan?" He demanded skeptically.

She offered the most confident smile she could. She knew it wouldn't fool him but she did it anyway. "The plan is what it always is. You protect me. I protect you." She poked at his chest. "And no dying." Before he could respond to her flippant answer she twisted herself away and fled his grasp. Half-mumbled curses followed her back down the hallway and she knew Fenris was shaking his head in annoyance behind her. Everyone was waiting, now fully dressed including Renna who was still trapped in sleep on the bed.

Hawke put her hands on her hips and looked from elf to elf. There were precautions that needed to be taken. "Orana, wake the rest of the house and move everyone down to the catacomb rooms to wait. Take food with you. I don't know how dangerous things might get, and I'm unwilling to have so many people in close proximity to demon magic. We'll come for you when this is through, until then, stay safe and stay away from us." Orana nodded her head and with a worried look in her eyes rushed to gather everyone and hide in the basements.

Fenris, following Hawke's attempts at preparation, decided to voice his own concerns. "Excellency, did anyone see you leave your estate? The Archon running through the streets of the city with a woman in his arms is not something easily explained away. Are there any spies among your slaves? If you were observed, that information leaves us all vulnerable."

"Of course there are spies among my slaves," Antonius replied impatiently and his eyes took on a dark quality, "where else would I hold my enemies but close at hand." Hawke was chilled by the cold directness of the statement. "But we were not seen. I took the passages through the catacombs."

"Still, it will be noticed if you are absent when dawn comes, and it fast approaches." Fenris furrowed his brow as he tried to predict what trouble this might cause for them and how best to deal with it, but Hawke thought of something first.

"Dareth," she exclaimed excitedly, "I want you and your brother to go to the Sword and Sovereign Inn at the east docks and get Messere Varric. You remember him from when he has visited us, don't you?"

"Of course Mistress Hawke." Fenris's steward replied eagerly.

"Tell Varric..." She stopped. What could she have them tell Varric? That a frightened and desperate Archon appeared at their door with his unconscious lover and they were going to be indisposed while they rescued her from demons? Even if it did sound ridiculous they couldn't risk someone overhearing it. If she had learned anything up to this point about Minrathous it was that every dank corner of the city had eyes and ears. How to phrase this...? 

"Tell him Fenris and I are about to undertake a..." She drew out the word while she pondered. "...quest for our...um...companion that we had been planning. That should be enough for him to infer." At least she hoped. "Varric will know what to do with the information. Help him with whatever he needs." Dareth nodded his head to Hawke in acknowledgement.

Fenris looked at her confused. "How exactly is the dwarf going to help things?"

"He's going to do the two things he does best. Be a loyal friend and lie through his teeth." Hawke said, unblinking. "He'll concoct some story. It will work, I promise. Did you know he told the Chantry Seekers I jumped on the back of a high dragon and killed it with my daggers. Jumped on a high dragon's back, Fenris. And killed it with daggers. And they believed him. Whatever bullshit he comes up with will be fine, I swear. He's just the type of person people want to believe." Then she turned to Antonius ignoring Fenris's very palpable doubt.

"Excellency, my friend might need access to your estate and your slaves. Will this be possible?"

The Archon glared suspiciously and Hawke knew he had to stop himself from refusing on reflex. He glanced down at Renna, took a breath and grit his teeth. "You trust this 'friend' of yours?"

"With our lives." Hawke replied without hesitation. She saw his eyes move to Fenris who offered a single nod of agreement. That small nod was a large and difficult step forward for her lover, Hawke knew. To trust someone other than her was an important milestone for Fenris. His world was expanding with his acceptance that there were others he could rely upon. She set aside her pride in him for the moment, however, saving her congratulations for another time.

Antonius must have accepted Fenris's confirmation on the loyalty of Varric because he thew an order at Dareth. "You. Fetch me parchment, quill and wax."

Dareth ran to comply and when he returned with the items, Antonius hastily wrote something out on the paper, signed it and folded it. A spark of fire from his finger melted a spot of wax and he used his signet ring to seal the letter closed. "Give this to your friend. I do not keep a steward. I prefer to handle my private matters personally. This gives him permission to act in my stead in that regard...temporarily." He emphasized. "No one will question it. There will be curious murmurings, but nothing substantial enough to prove threatening."

Hawke asked Fenris, "Anything else?" He shook his head in the negative, the lines of worry etching deeper into his face with each moment. And Hawke's next order of business wasn't going to help. "Merrill, is it going to be possible for us to go into Renna's dream to get her back? You're more familiar with the ritual we used when we did it with the somniari boy back in Kirkwall than I am. Can we do it the same way?"

Hawke bit her lip. All of the reasons this was a bad idea started flooding her head as soon as she said it. The Fade was not a place for uncertainty or experimentation. Hawke knew she could control a foray into the Fade if it was of her own making using her own magic, but visiting someone else's dream was at best unpredictable. And she hadn't exactly been what one would call successful at it in the past.

Merrill frowned and wrung her hands. "I know the ritual well enough, Hawke but this isn't the same. It isn't her dream. She's not a mage, she doesn't dream like us. Wherever she is in the Fade it is a place of the demons' making and is being controlled by them. It would be like breaking into their territory to bring her back."

"We have little choice. The longer we delay the deeper they dig their claws in." Antonius said. "There are many ways to infiltrate the dreams of others and many more to seek out a demon in its lair, but I know of none that can be done without blood. Am I to understand you have done this before and been successful?"

"There are many ways to do many things without blood magic." Hawke said caustically. "And yes, we have done something similar, but as Merrill points out this is not entirely the same. As it is, I agree with you we have little choice." Hawke looked at Fenris. She could practically see the reservations written across his face. She sympathized, but there was nothing for it. "We need to begin."

xxxx

Fenris and Marian stood next to the bed as the diminutive Dalish mage started chanting. Antonius stood opposite them, and Renna lay silent between. Merrill closed her eyes and Fenris saw Varania slip her fingers through the other woman's to hold her hand as she cast the spell that would send them into the Fade. He was overcome by a need to do the same and stepped closer to Marian, finding her hand with his.

Merrill had given brief instructions. She would need to remain on this side of the Veil to hold open their exit. Fenris, Marian and Antonius would all be delivered into the dream, but it was impossible to know what they would find there. Marian had given him and Antonius a speech before they started. 'Whatever you see will be a lie', she said. 'Believe nothing', she said. 'The demons will know everything about you. Things you don't even admit to yourself. Fears you didn't even know you had. But only you can allow them to use it against you', she said. 'I've seen more than a few fall to temptation.' Fenris thought he saw Merrill flinch at Marian's statement. 'But we will get through this and all four of us will return together...'

That last thing Marian said hung there between the three unlikely allies as each of them thought the same thing, but none were willing to voice it. We will return together or not at all.

They had extinguished the fire in the small room and it was dark. The rain still poured outside, but the thunder had grown distant and the lightning had grown dim. Fenris was taut as a bowstring, but he could feel Marian trying to relax, allowing her magic to flow between them. The chanting became more rapid, but still smooth like a song and though Fenris didn't understand the words he almost thought he could feel the magic in them. Merrill's voice was a whisper and soon Fenris began to see her breath puff out of her mouth as she spoke. The air chilled and Fenris felt the nip of frost against his skin. The night seemed to darken even more but then was illuminated by pale blue rune lines forming all around them. They spread and drew themselves out from Merrill's feet, covering the floor, rising up the walls to the ceiling and encompassing all of the exposed surfaces in the room.

Marian's grip on Fenris's hand tightened and he squeezed back. His lyrium started pulsing, matching the glow of the rune Merrill was weaving. He took a breath and tried to feel the flow of his markings along with the pull of his magic inside him as Marian had taught him, but something was wrong. It hurt. He hurt. He burned. He let go of Marian's hand and looked down at himself, unable to hold back from scratching at the brands on his arms. The sensation was old and new at the same time. His gut twisted and his heart pounded and he tried desperately to control the pain of it that he knew so well but had been trying to forget.

His thoughts started running wild. What was happening? It was getting colder but it only made the burning in his markings worse. Was Marian still beside him? He couldn't feel her magic. When he looked up again the others in the room started disappearing away into shadow. Icicles jutted down from the ceiling and he would swear he saw snowflakes blowing in the breezeless air.

Panic now had full control of him and the lyrium song screamed as it seared inside his skin. He could almost feel it expanding along with the wicked blue rune. He opened his mouth to cry out but no sound escaped. There were no longer any sounds at all; his hearing deafened by magic and lyrium. His reason abandoned him, his resolve failed and the only thing he could think was to run. But just as his muscles were about to act on the thought, the walls collapsed, the floor disappeared out from under his feet and he fell, screaming soundlessly into the darkness as the real world faded away.

xxxx

This can't possibly be going wrong already! The thought came along with a frustrated curse in Hawke's head. Fenris had let go of her hand and she could feel his lyrium burning with crazed abandon next to her. She tried to reach out to him but she felt herself being pulled away and she couldn't reach him. She looked around frantically and realized everyone and everything in the room was moving farther apart as if being carried off on the wave of the expanding rune. Merrill was lost to the spell, too committed to it now to stop the casting. Hawke could no longer see Renna or Antonius and Fenris was nothing but a wavering glow of lyrium in the darkness. Hawke flexed her freezing fingers and drew her magic into them. She had to do something. They were being sucked in too fast, and not only that but they were being pulled in different directions. She had no idea if Merrill was being too effective or not effective enough. The elf had used all the lyrium they had available, but before they started she had told Hawke she was still unsure if it would be enough to complete the ritual. The only explanation was that the demons were already exercising their control over the unwitting souls who dared to invade their domain.

Hawke had to do something. She had to hold them together somehow, she had to anchor them. She reached out with her senses in the darkness just as the floor fell away. Her heart shot up into her throat and air whooshed past her ears. She was tumbling down a black abyss head over heels and flailing limbs. She squeezed her eyes shut and shut out the terror rising inside her. She let her magic open up and guide her. She imaged it reaching out and slowing her fall. She imagined it reaching out and feeling for Fenris. She even imagined it reaching out in search of Antonius. She reached and reached, but she still felt as if she was accelerating downward. She fought harder, dug deeper inside herself even as nausea washed over her and her head spun.

And then she felt something brush against her hands. She still couldn't see anything, but she clawed against the emptiness of the void trying to grasp at whatever it was that made itself tangible enough for her to feel it against her skin. Her fingers finally found what they sought and she closed them around...something. It didn't matter what it was, her magic was telling her to hold on so she did. She pulled her hands into her chest each of them fisted around some nameless formless thing. She pulled with all the might of her magic and suddenly she landed. She crashed down hard on her back onto a surface that was wet and cold. She skidded backwards with the force of her fall. Her feet scrambled trying to slow her movement but she kept her hands clenched and holding on. She was stopped by the top of her head striking against something and she opened her eyes at the feeling of cold wetness spattering down on her from above.

She blinked several times and the darkness slowly brightened into white. A world started to come into focus around her. The ground, the sky. Snow. She looked up from where she lay on her back and saw the bare branches of a tree covered in soft white powder. She pushed herself up against its trunk and more of it sifted down on top of her. She shook the snow from her hair. She was in a winter forest. After a few deep breaths she had her equilibrium back. She looked down at her hands and slowly opened them. Resting in her palms was short length of a chain. The links were thick and slick with the wetness of the snow that now covered most of her. She moved it around and studied it. There didn't appear to be a true 'end' to either end of it. The links just faded off into thin air. She grabbed hold of it tightly and gave it an experimental tug. Sure enough something pulled back. The chain was stretched out from her hands disappearing into nothing.

Whatever it was this chain symbolized in this peculiar corner of the Fade, she wasn't about to let it go. She didn't know how or why but she knew it was what stopped her descent into oblivion. At least it had felt like oblivion. And at least now she was 'safely' somewhere tangible, or as tangible as things were on the opposite side of the Veil.

Hawke let the chain fall slack again and then wrapped it around her wrist twisting one of the imaginary ends through the loops wound tight against her skin. The other 'end' floated curiously off behind her suspended in the air. She stood and dusted the snow off her body shivering against the cold. She tried not to feel dismayed that she was alone. She was certain that Fenris and Antonius must have landed somewhere as well. She wasn't sure why she felt certain about that, she just did. She felt a small tingle of something that was uniquely 'Fenris' still clinging to her. She just had to find him. She took a deep breath, steeled her resolve and started walking.

xxxx

Fenris was alone. At least he thought. At least he hoped. He took a few shallow panting breaths, not quite feeling sure enough to stop running. His feet were numb and he no longer felt the snow covered ground touching his toes. He pounded out the quickest pace he could muster with what energy he had left. These hunters had proven more persistent than most, and more skilled at tracking him. They must have mages with them, he thought and he felt his face grimace in disgust. The woods were silent. The only sound was the soft crunch of snow beneath his steps. He didn't know what day it was. He wasn't sure how far he had travelled since he left the last village where the slavers had caught up with him and he didn't know how long it would take him to find a road again. None of these damned Fereldon roads made sense. They weren't laid out in an organized grid like in Tevinter. They meandered aimlessly, never seeming to run parallel. But it was just as well since he should probably avoid the roads for now. His back ached against the weight of his sword, the lyrium burned in his skin and his empty stomach rumbled in protest. He shivered involuntarily and cursed the cold southern winters.

But there was something else he felt; something not quite as familiar as these discomforts that defined his life as a fugitive slave. Aches and pains and hunger were nothing new to him, but another sensation tickling at the back of his mind was new. Things didn't seem quite...right. His lyrium felt a little...strange. No less painful, just strange. The cold air he was heaving in and out of his chest tasted...different.

He decided to ignore the odd feeling along with all the other familiar ones. There definitely must be mages somewhere. That must be it. Magic made everything strange. It was safer to keep running and he would need to be more wary.

He ran until he couldn't push his legs any further. Everything had been quiet for a long while. He could find somewhere to rest and hopefully the slavers would be doing the same. Gods knew they had chased him for long enough to be tired. Fenris stepped over and ducked through snow covered saplings and dead branches, navigating his way through a particularly dense thicket. He sighed as he pushed his way to a clearing. But instead of being greeted by silence and rest, he was greeted by the sound of crossbows nocking bolts and blades unsheathing. The ring of slavers before him were three men deep. Fenris was frozen in place as solid as the gods-forsaken ground he stood upon.

The leader of the group stepped forward with a casual swagger. "Avanna Fenris. It's good to see you again."


	57. Hunted

The slavers were more numerous than Fenris actually wanted to count out. What did it matter how many they numbered? He would kill them all or he would die here. He would not be taken alive.

"Your master told us you'd make for a difficult hunt." The leader said through crooked teeth and a sickening grin. "Actually, he'd almost seemed proud when he said it. But I didn't think we'd have to chase you clear down to flea-bitten-fucking-Fereldon to bring you back."

Fenris let the man talk. There were three bowmen. The rest had melee weapons. He didn't think any of them looked like mages, but he still felt the strangeness that could only mean there was magic smoldering somewhere unseen. He didn't want to use his lyrium, but he couldn't reach back and pull his sword fast enough to avoid taking a bolt from one of the crossbows.

"Come on, Elf. You're cold and tired. We're cold and tired. Just surrender quietly and we can all go home."

Home? Fenris almost laughed. His home was a sword and a constant burn in his skin. His home was a black pit of lost memories next to another pit of memories that he wished he could lose. There was no where for him to call home and there never would be.

The human must have seen in Fenris's eyes the response to his offer. The smile slid from his face and his hand moved to his sword.

Fenris would indeed surrender, but not to the hunters. He clenched his fists and surrendered to his lyrium.

xxxx

Hawke smelled lyrium. She tasted it in the air and she heard it's song on the wind. Pungent and vibrant and loud here in the Fade.

Fenris.

She hurried her steps and stumbled through the pathless woods. The closer she got to the feeling of Fenris, the faster she went. He felt different. There was a rough, jagged quality to his aura. The short length of chain wrapped around her wrist, that held some mystical significance still unknown to her, felt warm against her skin. The sound of metal clashing and men shouting took form and she pushed the lyrium song to the back of her mind. She had no conventional weapons on her. If Fenris was engaging an enemy she would have to use her magic to aid him. There was no question. Of course she would use her magic to aid him, but she could not allow herself to lose focus in this hostile territory that had claimed them.

She pushed her way through into a clearing, emerging on a scene of chaos. At the center was Fenris. Three men were attacking him at once. They danced around broken bodies and pools of bloody snow, melted by the lingering heat of the freshly slain and stained red by their torn open insides. Hawke stood transfixed by the massacre. Scattered around the dead were the half-dead, twitching and moaning their death knell or yelling and writhing in agony.

The three men surrounding Fenris dropped to two as her elf swung his massive sword, cutting clean both arms off his target. Another body fell to the ground with a scream, blood spraying out from his stumps in an almost elegant arc. Two was reduced to one when Fenris ducked the blow of a mace and rose up from underneath with an upper cut to the hapless human's chin, a lyrium-lined fist emerging straight through the crown of the man's head. Brain matter oozed through Fenris's fingers as he pulled free his hand. The last man standing dropped his sword and started backing away as quickly as his feet would navigate him around the mess of guts and limbs. His hands came up in front of him, his eyes wide and begging. With trembling words he started pleading for his life.

"P..p..please! It was only for coin. J..j..just for the coin. I have a family to feed; a wife, a daughter, she's only a small babe. I'm n..n..not, I w..w..won't go after you. I swear! You can leave here, just please let me live!"

Fenris lowered his sword and Hawke finally got a good look at him. He had a broken-off crossbow bolt imbedded in his shoulder and blood seeped out from under his pauldren. She wasn't shocked by the wound or the violence he had wrought. She wasn't shocked by the might and power he so seamlessly displayed. Those things she had seen from him many times before and there was a dark part of her that embraced his darkness; loved it even. It was part of who he was and Fenris could no more be separated from his darkness than one could separate the darkness from the night.

What shocked her was something else. Something else in his appearance was different. His face was hollow. He looked thinner than she remembered. Thin like he had been when they first met. Perhaps not in terms of the weight of his body, but thin in a brittle sort of way. Thin with sharpness and with pain. His eyes were wild. His hair was soaked in gore. He looked...hunted.

Fenris stared up at the taller human who was still trying to retreat backwards. "Are there any more of you?" He asked, his deep voice thick with menace.

"I'll tell you everything, everything you want to know, just promise me you won't kill me!" He was a pathetic thing, and Hawke almost felt sorry for the man.

Fenris narrowed his eyes. "I promise." He drawled out.

"Yes, there are more!" The man replied without pause. "But only two. They're waiting in the village at the end of the road up ahead. Only two. I'll go and meet them. I'll tell them you're dead, we'll all leave. They have families as well. We just want to go home."

Before Hawke could blink, Fenris had closed the distance between him and his prey. The man was either too slow or too surprised to react. He looked down helplessly at his chest where Fenris's hand had disappeared into it. He looked back up into Fenris's eyes. Holding the man's gaze, Fenris twisted his arm slowly one way, and a pained cry bubbled up out of the man's mouth along with a spurt of blood. Then, Fenris twisted his arm even more slowly the other way. Hawke saw the man's face contort with tears as he looked into the face of death. Fenris's face. And he was smiling.

The man died impaled on Fenris's arm. When the body went limp, Fenris freed himself and backed away. He was about to swing his sword to rest on his back once again when Hawke, mouth agape, not knowing how to interpret the nightmare playing out before her, shifted her weight in the snow. To her ears the movement made no sound, but Fenris reacted so swiftly you would have thought she had created a din loud enough to rouse the dead.

His feral green eyes darted immediately to where she stood. His sword came up before him and his lyrium flared angrily. He paused in his battle stance for a brief moment just looking at her. When their eyes met, she relaxed a little. She let out the breath she had been holding and smiled. She had found him, he was safe and they were together again. "Fenris..." She started, but she never finished.

His odd aura changed again; dark and different. He tensed. He sneared. He spoke. "I knew there was one of you lurking here Magister scum!" He charged.

xxxx

Magister. Mage. Oppressor. Bitch. Fenris didn't know this woman. He didn't care. He knew what she was even if he didn't know who she was. He had felt magic and here it stood before him. Smiling at him. Daring to say his name. Hateful. Spiteful. Depraved. Corrupt. He was on her before she could summon her vile magic. He threw down his sword and charged her. She was a small wisp of a human, falling backwards into the snow under the weight of his attack. He landed on top of her and grabbed her hands, moving them and holding them pinned above her head with one of his. There was shock in her dark eyes. Clearly, no one had told her what to expect from the wayward slave she hunted. His advantage perhaps, but he knew better than to take any mage lightly. He would kill her before she could act against him.

xxxx

Hawke lay pinned beneath her lover, who wasn't the same man who loved her. This man, with the hate of the hunted in his eyes, was going to kill her. She had indeed found Fenris. She found him twisted and poisoned and trapped in some nightmare of his past, made real again by whatever demon was weaving their fate here in the Fade.

One of his hands pinned her wrists, the other moved around to her throat. She was wracked by indecision. Should she act with magic to save herself but further fuel his Fade-induced misconception?

His grip on her tightened. "This chain you carry, Magister." He flicked his chin at the strange chain she had wrapped around her wrist. When he brought his beautiful face closer to hers, her heart clenched at the absence of affection in his eyes. "Tell me. Was it meant for me?" Each of his words was accompanied by a flexing of his fist around her neck. Her chest was getting tight and she was thirsty for air. Her magic fled her at the prospect of having to use it against her love. She knew she couldn't let them both be lost to this fiction they were living at a demon's whim, but what was she to do?

She bucked and thrust her pelvis up, trying to free herself using only her body. She twisted her arms and tossed her shoulders. It was ineffective at best, only serving to anger him more. He released her wrists, but swiftly brought his hand down to meet the other at her neck and he strangled her in earnest.

Hawke's eyes felt as if they were being squeezed from her head. She fought him wildly now, unable to hold back the instinct of self preservation, but she kept her magic silent. Both of her hands came to his at her throat and she clawed at his gauntleted fingers. She looked at their struggling hands as she madly tried to pry him from her. He growled and bore his weight down, pushing her deeper into the snow. Then her fingers contacted something other than black leather and steel. Tied around one of his wrists was a bloodied-red ribbon. Her ribbon. The bit of silk from her hair that she tied to his petty wounded hand. The bit of silk stained with her sweat and his blood and their magic. The bit of silk that he had yet to take off since the night she had pulled him close to her with it as they made love. If he wore this even as his imagined self in the Fade, then there was still some part of him that remembered her and he wasn't entirely lost.

Without thinking, her magic came to her fingers as she touched the softness of it juxtaposed against the armored fist that was choking the life from her. She tingled with the feeling of the magic from the real world still lingering on it. Fenris's evil eyes moved from hers to his wrist and there was a sliver of a moment where his grip loosened as he looked at her fingers caressing the ribbon. A sliver of a moment, where recognition sparked bright, and she knew he remembered. A sliver of a moment, before he was knocked from his knees where he straddled her, struck by a bolt of lighting, landing on his back across the carnage covered clearing.

Hawke gasped and sat up, whipping her head around to the source of the lightning. Antonius walked with deliberate steps towards them, his hands crackling with blue electricity. Hawke turned back to Fenris who groaned and tried to pull himself up.

"He is being controlled by a demon." The Archon said loudly to her as he continued to advance. "It is using the memories of his past against him, against us."

"I know that, you ass!" She shouted back scrambling to her feet, not at all sorry for her lack of respect. She ran over to where Fenris was struggling to stand.

xxxx

Fenris struggled to stand. He had blacked out, briefly he hoped. He shook his head trying to clear his vision. When his eyes were able to focus he saw a woman running towards him and a man slowly advancing with magic at his fingertips. Mages. Hunters. He should run. He stumbled backwards, looking for where he dropped his sword.

"Stay back!" He heard the man order. To him or to the woman, Fenris wasn't sure but then he continued. "He doesn't know you. He will kill you."

Kill her. Yes. He had been trying to kill her, but then he had stopped. Why had he stooped? There was something. Something that seemed so clear a moment ago, but now... Now, he had lost his advantage and now there were two of them. Now, he had no choice. He had to run.

He found his sword and picked it up, hefting it onto his back but before he could turn to bolt back into the woods in the opposite direction of the two magisters, a voice whispered against his ear and he found his feet rooted to the frozen ground.

Will you run forever, Fenris?

The voice crooned softly. Were these his own thoughts? Was one of the mages using some demon against him?

Is that to be your fate? Being chased like a dog is no better than being a slave, is it?

He would have believed they were his own thoughts. He'd had them a thousand times before, after all. He would have believed they were his own thoughts, if not for the icy cold hand that slithered over his shoulder and trailed down his chest. Someone, something had come up behind him. Try as he might, his muscles wouldn't move him from the spot. He couldn't separate himself from the horrible embrace he now found himself in. His lyrium seared despite the coolness of the touch. Terror gripped him. Two magisters and a demon. He looked longingly into the woods. He should have run when he had the chance. He looked spitefully at the female magister. He should have killed her when he had the chance.

Yes, you should have killed her. Why don't you kill her now? I can help you, Fenris. I can help you to change your fate while you still can...

xxxx

"Hawke! Stop!" This time she listened to Antonius. Fenris looked as if he was about to run into the woods and she would have followed him but then he stopped and just stood with his sword on his back and his feet covered by snow. A shadowy form materialized behind him. Tall and slender, it snaked one arm around Fenris pulling him close. Hawke almost screamed and her well-controlled magic from a moment ago suddenly boiled up to the surface and she had to clench her fists to hold it inside her hands.

The thing was like no demon she had ever seen, and the sad truth was that she had seen many. It appeared to be the shape of a woman, but it was entirely cloaked in black. Long white hair spilled out from under its hood and the skin it wore was nearly as white. Its arm glowed slightly, almost blending in with the light of Fenris's lyrium that was shining like a beacon under his armor.

Everyone was still. She heard the faintest of whispers coming from all around them and she knew the demon was speaking to Fenris but Hawke couldn't make out the words and she couldn't read her love's suddenly blank expression. When the hooded head of the demon rose up from where it was leaning into Fenris's ear, Hawke saw on its face that where eyes should have been there were only two vacant holes of black.

But those holes seemed to stare directly at Hawke. And the thing smiled.


	58. Lies

It would never be said of Hawke that she was timid or weak. Powerful? Yes, of course. Reckless? That as well. Possessive? This would perhaps be the first time. The first but not the last where Fenris was concerned. Fenris was hers. He was hers in every way that mattered, in every way that should exist and none of the ways that shouldn't. Fenris was hers. Not that vacant-eyed demon's.

Even if she had wanted to hold back her magic, she didn't think she could have. Her arm swept up with a push of force so intense Fenris was knocked free of the demon's embrace and both their bodies, if a demon could be said to have a body, were lifted from the ground. Fenris landed far back in a snow drift no worse for wear, physically at least. If he remembered Hawke throwing the attack his way after this she was sure he would forgive her under the circumstances. The demon didn't land, but disappeared out of sight in a hiss of vapor. Hawke looked around, another attack tickling at her fingertips waiting for it to rematerialize.

What Hawke didn't know was that it didn't need to.

xxxx

Fenris felt his conscious self retreat to the back of his mind as the voice of Fate marched to the front of it. He didn't so much allow it to happen as he surrendered to the inevitable. It was what a slave did.

Draw your sword and kill them both.

The voice was insistent.

Then you'll be free.

Freedom. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? He drew his sword. It was heavy, so terribly heavy, and his lyrium burned. He forced himself to ignore the pain so that he could change his fate. He had to kill these magisters. The man was closer. He should attack him first. Fenris glanced quickly at the woman who had sent him flying with her magic. She wasn't paying any attention to him. She was searching around, her nose stuck up into the air as if she was sniffing for something.

Lightning crackled around the man's hands. He was glaring at Fenris defensively. The woman suddenly turned and held her hand out at the other magister.

"Don't you dare attack him Antonius!" She shouted.

"He'll kill us both in this state, he must be incapacitated!"

Magisters arguing was nothing new. Fenris took the opportunity to launch himself at the man, sword raised. An energy shield materialized around his target just as he brought his sword down but he never made contact with it. Another wave of force hit him square on. This time, however, it wasn't as intense. He skidded backwards but remained on his feet. The woman appeared between Fenris and the man. He braced himself against the sting in his lyrium he knew would come from exposure to magic, but though he held his breath and tensed his muscles it never came.

There was something different about her magic...

Lies. She's going to lie to you, like they all do.

The voice whispered and it filled his head up again shoving away stray thoughts.

The woman spoke, sounding calm but for the frantic urgency he saw in her eyes. An odd thing for him to notice her eyes...

"Fenris, listen to me. This is all a lie."

Fenris blinked. He wasn't sure he had meant to move but his body seemed to propel itself at the woman, sword first. Of course she saw him coming and had time to leap backwards out of harm's way. That she was able to do so at all sent a curious flicker of surprise across the part of his mind he still controlled. Was she so fast? Or had he become so slow?

The other magister spoke again. "He can only hear the demon. Your words are wasted." Magic flared around the man and Fenris felt it in his lyrium. Fenris turned back to him and charged with another wide swing. He hadn't given thought to dodging the lightning he knew would come, he was just going to take it and hope his blade made contact, but another force push exploded out of the woman. It wasn't directed at him.

The magister was sent sprawling, his lightning misdirected and dispersing harmlessly in the air above them. "Antonius! Back down!" The woman snarled at him, then she turned back to face Fenris. The buried part of his psyche would swear he heard pleading in her voice. "Fenris, you know me. You know my magic. You are not a slave. No one is hunting you. It is all a demon's lie. You need to focus and remember. Remember me. Remember us."

Remember? Remember what? Was she mocking him? Did she know the secret shame of his lost memories?

The voice answered his questions.

How dare she. She knows nothing of you. Kill her while she still has the lies on her lips.

Fenris swung out his sword without thinking about it first. His head was throbbing, his lyrium was burning, his ears were ringing and he wanted nothing more than for everyone and everything to just be silent. As he moved to attack again, the man repositioned and, out of the corner of his eyes, Fenris saw more lightning spark in his direction but again he was spared the contact. The woman inserted herself once more between them and absorbed the element herself. She winced and fell to one knee, but her eyes never left him. Very dark, wide eyes...

"Get out of the way, you daft woman! I could have hurt you!" The lightning-wielding magister yelled.

"Please." The woman grunted out, almost sounding like a laugh. "You're not that strong." She said with a wry smile on her lips. Her lips...

Fenris shook his head forcing his eyes away from her mouth, though why he was momentarily so focused on it he didn't know. He was sufficiently mystified to cause his anger to grow. His grasp of the situation, along with what little control he thought he had, was slipping. He looked down at the woman kneeling in front of him. He could end her right now. But there was a strange hesitation coming from the back of his mind. Would ending her make things right? He just wasn't sure. But the voice seemed certain.

The mighty magister kneels before you. Reverse your roles and strike her down. Don't you wish to be as powerful as them?

Fenris paused.

That was a lie. He was certain. He would never want to be like them. If he knew anything, he knew this. Fenris lowered his sword and brought a hand up to his head, trying to rub away the fog of manipulation he felt was clouding his thoughts. Something was wrong. This was all wrong...

xxxx

Hawke's heart leapt. She stayed on the ground, scared to move, scared to disrupt the slow creep of realization that had started in her love with the lowering of his sword. She sent a withering glare at Antonius, hoping he read her meaning without explicitly telling him to back off.

"Fenris, love." She spoke so softly she could barely hear herself, but she knew he would hear her. "You know me. I'm Marian. Your Marian."

Fenris brought his hand away from his face and his green eyes looked lost.

"You are not a slave Fenris. You are free. Don't let this demon take that away."

xxxx

Fenris lowered his hand from his face and something caught his eye. It was an unexpected sight and he jerked his head back a little when he saw it, as if it would bite or sting like an insect. Wrapped around his gauntlet was a length of silk. At least it appeared to be silk, for as filthy as it was. The thing was thoroughly saturated red with old, dried blood. His shoulder was still dripping from the broken off crossbow bolt embedded in it, he had some other minor lacerations, but there was nothing wrong with his wrist that he would have wrapped it so, and where would he have gotten silk anyway?

He turned his head, bringing the material closer to his face and he studied it. The scent of something carried from the cloth to his nose. Something complicated and delicious. It smelled of orchids, sweat, sex and...magic.

He closed his eyes and he remembered.

xxxx

Hawke stood triumphantly. She knew. The moment he closed his eyes, she knew Fenris was hers again.

But the demon knew it too and when Fenris opened his eyes back up the creature reappeared behind him, larger now, an imposing billow of black robes, white hair and hollow eyes. Hawke shouted out a warning, but she didn't need to. Fenris set his jaw, flipped his sword around as if it was a dinner knife and not a person-sized length of steel. Still facing forward he stabbed backwards with it and if the demon only had a true form it would have been impaled. As it was, the thing screeched and disappeared away again.

Fenris turned to where it had been. Hawke felt his magic rising and the sensation it gave her was so...satisfying, she could have lost herself in it.

"Marian," Fenris spoke with his back to her, voice deep and commanding. "Protect the Archon."

"Antonius, come closer to me and don't let Fenris's magic touch you!" The Archon was wise enough to obey and the two humans ran towards each other, taking up a defensive position behind Fenris. The elf had thrown down his sword and his magic was already changing the Fade around them.

As his lyrium brightened the winter glade darkened. The snow under their feet melted and dried up into dust, blowing away on a growing wind. The trees towering above them withered and shrunk back into the soil. Low and heavy clouds rolled in to cover the sky overhead. The screeching sounded again, louder this time, shaking the air. Hawke jumped and stumbled into Antonius when she realized the dead bodies littering the ground had started to stir.

Hawke and Antonius were surrounded by reanimated corpses while Fenris stood alone, concentrating, trying to dismantle the demon's domain with his magic. Antonius was attacked first by a body wielding a mace with the only arm it had left. He ducked a blow from the weapon, then punched the undead in the face. He followed up the counterattack by setting it on fire with a burst of mageflame. Hawke was kept busy with two headless forms that managed to get their hands on her. She froze them solid then scooped up a discarded sword from the ground and swung it, quite unskillfully, but effectively, shattering the statues of ice.

The humans continued on like this, but when the bodies Fenris had made in his delirium were lifeless once again, it still wasn't over. The now barren ground started to push up and skeletons emerged bringing a new wave of fighting. All the while, Fenris's entropy continued to rage. Hawke could feel his destruction tickling against her senses, but she could tell he was in control enough to spare her and Antonius from it. Not so for everything else. The scene they found themselves in had gone from a life rich forest to a dead and dust filled space for as far as the eye could see. Cracks formed in the dry ground and the sky was empty. The demon screeching kept growing louder, but it still had not taken tangible form again.

To Hawke's relief, Antonius was a more effective mage and fighter than she would have given the high-born bastard credit for, especially in these chaotic circumstances. His display of physical prowess when he sparred with Fenris clearly had not been only for show. She had the misfortune of seeing too many times in the past those who seem capable fall apart when the real fighting started. Everyone had their limits. Hawke hoped they wouldn't get anywhere near theirs, but her heart sank when the wave of skeletons was cleared, only to allow a hoard of lesser demons to surge forth. Hands on her knees and with heaving breath, she readied her magic for the next assault, praying to the Maker that Fenris could draw out the demon.


	59. Doors

Fenris was growing impatient. It took far longer to kill things with magic than he was accustomed to. Give him flesh and a sword to run it through with any day over this slow and distant destruction. But at least it seemed to be working, and despite the sluggish pace, wielding his magic was strangely satisfying. He let that sensation fill him. This was not the time nor the place to lament his weakness of moments ago when he allowed himself to be slave to a demon; allowed himself to raise a weapon against Marian. He would beg her forgiveness later, on his knees if needs be and he would find no shame in doing it. He would beg her forgiveness and he would thank her. Once again, her patience and persistence had broken down his walls and saved them both from an unthinkable fate. The only thing he would allow himself to think on right now was how he loved her and how he was going to murder this demon. Interesting that loving Marian and murdering things so very often came together.

He spared a quick glance in her direction. A flaming demon dropped at her feet. She caught him looking and flashed him a smile before she turned to smite another Fade-spawn. Antonius was holding his own as well, amazingly having picked up Fenris's greatsword, he used it to cut through a line of demons that had advanced too close.

Fenris focused back on his task. The Fate demon's domain was crumbling to nothing. He felt his magic swallowing it up and breaking it down, but the demon itself remained intangible. For each corner of this part of the Fade Fenris felt fall to his entropy the screeching filling his ears grew louder. He kept at it, letting the chaos of his power tear away at their surroundings.

xxxx

For as much as Antonius rubbed Hawke the wrong way, it was fascinating how alike he and Fenris were. When the lovesick fool picked up the greatsword and started cutting down demons with it, Hawke's jaw nearly hit the ground. How odd that the Imperial Archon, the most prominent mage in Thedas, was killing things with a sword while a former mage-hating ex-slave was killing things with magic.

Fortunately, the Maker must have had some blessings spared for them because soon there was nothing left to kill. The last remaining demon fizzled away at the end of the Archon's blade. Hawke looked all around them expectantly, her magic still alive and blazing in her hands. But for the horrible endless high-pitched cry that hadn't lessened a bit, they stood amidst nothing. Absolutely nothing. The three of them stood on no ground, surrounded by no walls, under no sky. Everything was just blackness. Fenris had wasted away the Fade around them into nothing but an empty void. A void in which Fate had nowhere to hide.

Antonius saw it first. Having been bedfellows with the demon for so long, Hawke imagined, he knew what to look for. "It's there." He said pointing into the distance that was impossible to judge with no reference in the nothingness. Its black robes blended in with the background so it seemed that only pale hands and white hair advanced on them, gathering speed. Before Hawke could blink the Archon's demon was upon him. But not quite. Faster than Hawke could follow with her eyes, Fenris appeared between Antonius and his Fate. Hawke saw the graceful lines of his lyrium shine against the darkness and for all the frightening size of the demon, Fenris seemed to loom taller.

When green eyes met hollowed sockets there was suddenly silence. Antonius stepped back on a reflex and Hawke stepped forward, but that was as far as either of them got before Fenris spoke directly to the demon.

"Shall we end this quickly?"

xxxx

"Shit." Hawke knew Fenris was through with being careful and controlled. She dove and tackled Antonius to the ground just as Fenris let loose the depths of his magic. It was all Hawke could do to shield herself and the Archon in time, and even then the force of it was more than she expected.

Hawke felt the very moment when the darkness inside Fenris came into focus and then exploded out. Both she and Antonius huddled together, their hands clutching their heads trying to shut out the horror. Disembodied sounds of agony, the roar of chaos and destruction and flashes of terrible images of unending pain assaulted their senses. And over it all was the demonic shrieking, but it was different this time. This time, it was losing.

On and on it went, Fenris's assault against the Fate demon. Hawke was barely able to hold it together, trying to deflect as much of the relentless attack as she could from Antonius while still trying to maintain her own sanity. Even so, she couldn't help but admire the terrible beauty of her elf's magic here in the Fade. Such an unbridled display might have shocked and disturbed her in the past. Now, despite the darkness tearing at her senses, she looked at Fenris with awe and pride. She knew where he had come from and the road he had taken to this moment. She had been there for the first wild and unexpected display of his magic and she was here now to witness how far he had progressed through fear and hate, uncertainty and hesitation and now finally understanding and acceptance. And it was magnificent.

And it was magnificently going to kill her if it went on for very much longer. She struggled to rise to her feet, thinking to throw whatever she had left of her magic at the demon as well but she had only moved forward a step when everything just...stopped. There was silence and Fenris's magic ceased. He was still standing before the demon but the now silent form started changing. Black robes blew away, pale skin over thin limbs scattered into dust, white strands of hair fell away and the last things to go were sockets absent of eyes and a thin smile.

xxxx

Fenris took a deep breath and stilled himself and his magic just as the demon faded away before him. In the empty space that remained a large door took shape, solidifying against the blackness of the void he had created.

He felt Marian behind him and she stumbled to his side. He turned quickly and caught her up to steady her.

"Is it...dead?" She asked sounding unsure at best. Fenris had the same question, and considering he was the one trying to kill it, the fact that he didn't know if he had succeeded was troubling.

Antonius rose to his feet behind them, dusting himself off with a calmness that seemed out of place considering what just occurred. "I no longer feel its presence." He said with a confidence that seemed to escape Marian and Fenris. "Which is the best we will likely be able to do under the circumstances. I am not exactly certain the Fates can be killed entirely. They are a unique entity in the Fade."

Marian pushed Fenris away and straightened. Her faculties appeared to have fully returned after the assault, along with something that looked like murderous intent in her eyes.

"What The Fuck do you mean 'can't kill entirely'?" Her words were slow and deadly. "And what the fuck exactly to you mean when you say 'they'?"

Antonius didn't flinch even as Marian stalked towards him. If she didn't look quite so menacing, Fenris might have thought it amusing that she was only now seeking specific details.

"As I said," Antonius took on a condescending tone that Fenris felt was unnecessary and unwise given the very angry woman between them. "The Fates are unique. Some scholars believe their existence pre-dates the times of the old gods. They are not simple demons to be smited by any random mage as if in one of your Harrowings. However, again, as I said, I no longer feel this one's presence near me. Its influence may not have been eradicated entirely, but it has been sufficiently subdued to trouble us no longer, and perhaps find other prey. As to your question regarding 'them', I can only assume you are inquiring as to their number. There are three. And effectively, now, two remain."

Marian stiffened, clenched her fists and closed her eyes. She was shaking with the rage she was trying not to unleash on the Archon. Though he had never specifically mentioned it, Antonius had always implied that there was more than one Fate demon. Despite Marian's reaction, Fenris was somewhat relieved to hear they only had two left to deal with. It seemed he was becoming a very optimistic mage.

"So now what?" Marian growled. "And what went wrong when we landed here?" Her demands continued. "And what is this?" She gestured to the door that had appeared in front of Fenris. "And what is that?" She gestured to a door Fenris just now noticed that had appeared behind Antonius. This one appeared to be open, though there was as much nothing behind it as there was everywhere else around them. "And what is this?" She shook her arm where a chain was wrapped around her wrist, the ends of it floating off and just disappearing more so than actually ending.

Fenris, more concerned now though he knew not why, took Marian's arm in his hands and studied the chain. The lyrium in his fingers lit as he felt the metal.

Antonius folded his arms and said sarcastically, "I'll answer those questions in a temporal fashion, shall I? First, your Dalish friend had insufficient magic to stop the Fates from manipulating our passage into their domain. Her spell would have been more effective if she had used blood."

Marian almost said something, but Fenris stopped her with a squeeze to her hand. In response, she huffed and clenched her jaw, but remained silent, letting Antonius continue.

"We were being pulled in different directions as we descended, and we might have ended up completely separated from one another and lost, however, you seem to have managed to anchor us together while still maintaining our foothold on the other side of the Veil. Not a small feat, Magister Hawke, though I find it disturbing that a mage such as yourself can wield such impressive magic and yet have no understanding of it whatsoever."

"I'm going to pretend there wasn't an insult hidden in that compliment." Marian said.

"I had no intention of hiding anything." Antonius replied.

Fenris marveled at how quickly these two could degenerate into completely unproductive behavior. "I still don't understand." Fenris cut in, trying to bring them back on topic.

"That chain she wears is likely just a manifestation of her grip on us and our anchor on the other side. It is your magic made tangible because magic is a tangible thing in the Fade. And so it follows," Antonius pointed to the open door. "That is our door back home." Then he pointed to the closed door ahead. "And that is our door forward in this venture. And finally, the answer to your question as to what we do now. We move forward." And without another word, Antonius marched to the closed door, opened it and disappeared through it before either one of them could stop him.

Fenris and Marian looked at each other. Fenris leaned in, unable to speak, with too many things to say. He finally settled on fact. "We must follow." He said softly, not wanting to look away from her eyes.

"I know." Marian replied sadly as her hand came up to run her fingers through his hair. He shivered at the touch and wanted nothing more than to feel her in his arms. But he didn't deserve it yet, he needed to apologize.

"Marian, I..."

But she laughed him off before he could continue and pressed her lips to his. She tasted wonderful, her very essence magnified here in the nothingness of his void. She was the one to pull away first and he sighed at the loss of her warmth. "You know better than that by now, love. No apologies." She smiled brightly at him and it was like the light of the sun and moons combined. "Besides, we're not done here yet. You may need to be the one to talk me down off the cliff next."

The very thought was terrifying. How could their roles have been reversed? She was his rock. Steady and unwavering. She was his light. Breaking through his darkness. How could he hope to be as strong for her as she was for him?

Of course she answered his unspoken questions. "You just will be, love. Trust me." And it was with her confidence and determination back in place, that she took him by the hand and led him through the door to unravel the next threads of fate.


	60. Future

Fenris stepped through the doorway and he felt Marian's hand disappear from his. When he emerged she was gone and he found himself staring at Antonius who was leaned up against the stone wall of a corridor, his arms folded. Fenris looked down at himself. His imagined injuries from the imagined battle with the hunters were gone. Gone also was his armor and his sword. He was wearing his normal clothes and was unarmed. But then he was never truly unarmed. He had his lyrium and, he reminded himself, he had his magic. What he didn't have was Marian. His heart dropped and he closed his eyes against a rush of blind fear. He took a long slow breath. She was here. They would find her. He would have faith, as she would have faith. As she must have had faith when she emerged in the Fade without him at her side. As she must have had faith when he had forgotten her and attacked her. He would have faith and he would find her.

He opened his eyes to the Archon, who seemed to be standing patiently, waiting. "Do you know where we are?" Fenris asked him.

"This looks to be some sort of abandoned fortress. Other than that, I have no idea."

Fenris looked up and down the hallway. He noticed poorly kept masonry around the stone and torches burned down to stubs long the walls where only a few sconces were still intact to hold them. There was a dampness in the air and mold grew in the creases of the floor. "Marian was just ahead of me when we came through." He looked behind him forlornly at the open doorway beyond which was a black void that seemed out of place.

"I only saw you emerge. She must have been drawn in somewhere else." Antonius shifted off the wall. "Let us look for her, but we must be cautious."

"Yes, of course." Fenris agreed. He almost reached to his back to draw his sword to the ready, but remembering he was without it, he instead let his lyrium move through the brands in his skin and let his magic hover just beneath its surface.

The two men chose a direction and started walking at a slow pace. After making two completely random turns down identical adjacent corridors, Antonius spoke. "I am sorry that I had to attack you."

Fenris shrugged. "You were correct to do so. I was not myself. I would have tried to kill you both. I am grateful you attempted to stop me."

"It was fortunate you remembered yourself. That woman of yours would likely have been foolish enough to let you murder her."

He didn't exactly like the Archon's tone, but Fenris had to admit, he was probably correct. "I would hope that would not have been the case, but I admit that I do not always understand her actions."

"Madness is often difficult to understand."

Once again, Fenris could hardly fault the man for saying something he had thought himself more than once. "Nonetheless, my lack of understanding does not keep me from trusting her."

"You are a reasonable man, Fenris." They paused at an intersection. Antonius chose a direction and they continued walking. "I find myself wondering how you put up with her...lack of reason."

"Sometimes, I wonder as well..." Fenris mumbled under his breath and he rubbed at the back of his neck.

Antonius looked curiously at the motion and gestured at Fenris's hand. "What is that on your wrist?"

Fenris pulled down his hand and fondled Marian's ribbon. "It is a...token. It holds meaning for me." He said quickly and lowered his hand, embarrassed at what must look like a frivolity.

But the Archon didn't seem judgmental. "Is that blood on it? It smells faintly of magic. That could be made to be dangerous, you realize. I'm surprised Hawke allows you to wear it. She's not exactly silent about her opposition to blood magic." He said with contempt.

"I assure you, I have no intention of performing blood magic with it." Fenris said, matching contempt with contempt.

They continued on and eventually emerged into a larger space. Opposite from where they came, stairs descended into darkness.

The Archon sighed. "Down is never a good option." He said, but he still moved forward to take the stairs. Fenris followed.

The walls narrowed in on them as they walked below and the ceiling lowered. Before they reached the bottom, Fenris thought he heard something. By the time they were again on level ground he was certain he could hear something in the distance somewhere.

"Wait." He asked Antonius softly, and he closed his eyes to concentrate on listening. Fenris heard singing. It was Marian singing, he was certain. He stepped ahead and began to lead them through a maze of tight, dark and hopeless passages. The beat of his heart thumped harder inside his chest as fear found its way back into him. Fenris knew dungeons when he saw them.

The closer they approached the soft crooning sounds, the sharper they became to his ears. He recognized the song. It was one she had sung many times before, an old Fereldon ballad. He had always found the melody and the words proud and hopeful when she sang them in her clear and confident voice, untroubled by self-consciousness or uncertainty. But this was different. He was still sure it was her, but the song sounded different. She sounded different. The tune was slow and halting and troubled. What was usually full of hope had become mournful and filled with regret. It made him walk faster.

When the song was nearly on top of them they rounded a wider bend than those they had passed and came into an open area. The ceiling was still low and part of the floor was only dirt where the flagstone had broken away. The room emptied out onto another corner leading down what looked to be another passageway. The only light came from that direction, the torches casting only dim and indirect beams, leaving more shadows than brightness. Between the passage they came from and the one ahead of them, was Marian.

Fenris swallowed down a shocked cry at what he saw. His love was hung against an adjacent wall. The strange chain she wore at her wrist seemed to be serving a tangible purpose now and it was mirrored on the other side. Her arms were fastened tight to the stone and her body hung wearily down. Her feet didn't so much as touch the dirt of the ground as they fell upon it, not doing the job of bearing her weight for her. Her head was hung down to her chest as she sang her melancholy song.

The melody was broken suddenly by a short, wet cough and she inhaled deeply after it. She lifted her head and hung it back, exposing her face to them. Both of her eyes were closed, but not completely of her own accord. One of them was swollen shut and bloodied from a cut above her brow. More blood was caked under her nose, that looked as if it might be broken, and her soft and lovely lips that Fenris could almost still taste on his own were cracked and dry.

Of course Fenris's first instinct was to go to her but just as he stepped forward, a man emerged from the opposite passageway. He was wiping his hands off on a bit of cloth. They were obviously soaked with blood. The man's armor clattered noisily as he stepped into the room to stand before Marian. Fenris didn't fail to notice the emblem of the Seekers of Truth on his breastplate.

Marian opened her good eye and she stared back at the man. Neither she nor the Seeker acknowledged the presence of Fenris or Antonius. When the man tossed the now filthy cloth at Marian's chest, allowing it to bounce off and fall to the floor, Fenris nearly lost his mind.

Fact or fiction, dream or reality, Fade or not, there was no situation in which he would allow this to stand. His magic burned with a flare of lyrium and he almost lunged forward before Antonius stopped him by jumping between him and the Seeker.

Fenris had just enough sanity left to hold back his attack. It was barely enough and he knew Antonius was bracing himself, his magic also at the surface now. The Archon extended his hands out to Fenris, but didn't touch him. Stupid, Fenris thought, for Antonius to come between him and a threat to his woman, but still smart enough to avoid touching.

Antonius spoke with a commanding voice, Marian and the man still seemingly oblivious to their presence. "Fenris, wait. Stop and be sensible. We should take a moment to observe. We still have no idea what this situation is. We need to arm ourselves with more information before we run in headlong." He waited a wary moment until Fenris was able to pull back a small fraction. When he sensed Fenris was able to listen further, he continued.

"Think first. You attacked us on sight when we were in the vision of your past. What if she is being similarly controlled? She was careless when she came upon you, not taking the time to measure the situation before exposing herself. She forced us into having to fight you, when it could have been handled more delicately. If things are now reversed I, for one, have no wish to try and fight her off if she attacks us. Do you?"

Fenris growled low in his throat and clenched his fists at his sides. "Does she look like she's in any position to attack?"

Antonius didn't back down. "An injured animal is a dangerous one."

Unfortunately Fenris knew that fact better than he knew most things. He focused himself as best he could and took a reluctant step back into the shadows.

The human facing Marian spoke. "I rather enjoyed your singing, Champion, please don't stop on my account." The Seeker laughed out the statement with mockery in his voice and Fenris seethed in silence.

Though Fenris was sure they were being neither seen nor heard, Antonius whispered to him. "What do you know of her past?"

"I know that she's never been captured like this." Fenris answered through pursed lips and clenched teeth.

Antonius nodded pensively. "Then it is possible that this is the future."

Fenris shouted back, but still it went unheard by Marian and the Seeker. "I would never allow a future such as this to come to pass!"

The Archon scoffed. "What makes you think this is a future in which you are involved at all? It is possible this is a future that would have come from different choices that led her down a different path." He opened his hand to where Marian hung against the wall. "That obviously did lead her down a different path. Likely one where her recklessness was left unchecked by you. I did tell you she was fortunate to have met you, did I not?"

Fenris wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a retort. He continued to listen to the one-sided conversation before him.

"Your lover is proving recalcitrant my dear Hawke. We had to collar him to keep him from harming himself and others." The Seeker's tone had become serious.

Marian finally spoke, a broken laugh on her lips. "Well, if I had known that was all it took to reign in Justice, I would have done that years ago."

"If only you had, Champion. If only you had." The man said almost sadly. "Now, are you going to tell us what you know about the rebel mages you and Anders have been aiding since you fled Kirkwall together?"

"I haven't been 'aiding' any rebels. I'm just trying to keep people safe..." Fenris thought Marian sounded like she was reasoning with herself more than answering the man.

In response, the Seeker let out a long sigh. "I was hoping you wouldn't be as difficult to get through to. Unfortunately, I was wrong." The man rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. He cracked the knuckles on each hand. Fenris knew what was about to happen when he stepped in closer to Marian and drew back his fist. What Fenris wasn't expecting was the slight turn of his head before his blow fell against Marian and the smile that spread along his face as he looked directly at Fenris.


	61. Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to me I've never put in any trigger warnings. I don't think any of the content so far really warranted it, but just in case, for this chapter: triggery for torture. If you've read this far though, you must know by now that I prefer 'feel good' to 'angst' in my stories, so keep that in mind. There was actually a ton of depraved torture-type stuff that I could have included in this chapter, but when it came down to it, I just don't have it in me. I love Fenris too much to put him through it. So worry not, the badness doesn't last long. And it's the Fade, so no real damage done.

What bare threads remained of Fenris's sanity were cut when Marian's head whipped to the side against the Seeker's fist and blood spattered out from between her clenched teeth. 'Seeker' indeed. That thing, that demon, looked at him and smiled before it struck the woman he loved. That human was no human, no Fade apparition, no imagined character. That was a demon. One of the demons they sought or just another denizen of the Fade, he didn't care. It would have to die.

He thought he might have yelled, but he didn't hear it. He thought his lyrium flared but he didn't feel it. He knew his magic pushed its way out of him, but it seemed to die out as soon as it left his hands. He charged forward, not caring if it was magic or muscle that let him kill Marian's attacker, but he was thwarted again. There was something holding him back. Some force held his magic at bay when he pushed out with it. Some power kept him from crossing an invisible line between where he stood with Antonius and the scene of torture playing out before him. He struggled. He charged forward again. He ran up and down the length of the room, all around, testing where he would be permitted to move, which was no where close to where Marian hung from the wall.

When she coughed and groaned at another punch he clawed at the void of space he couldn't move past. When her jaw broke, he paced and snarled. When her ribs cracked, he fell to his knees in impotent fury, shaking and unable to think clearly enough to find a solution to end this madness. No torture he had ever experienced was this painful. No humiliation he had ever suffered was this great. He would absorb her suffering tenfold onto himself if there was only a way to keep it from her.

When she started sobbing, he shattered. He fell forward onto his hands and shut his eyes against his helplessness. He balled up a fist and landed it onto the cold and broken stone of the floor, oblivious to the cracking sound of his own bones as he did it. He rose and tried once more to push forward with all the strength left in his body and his lyrium. He tried to phase himself through the barrier, but he was unable to do even that. His lyrium hissed and burned at the effort. He kept trying, testing every inch of space he couldn't move past, but to no avail. He began to slow and tire.

He became aware of Antonius next to him and then behind him and then on his other side. The Archon was looking with narrowed eyes as if he could see the wall preventing them from moving forward. He studied the space up and down. He tentatively tested it with his own hands and his own magic. He met with the same resistance as Fenris.

Fenris was sweating and his breathing was labored. He looked over to Marian, similarly drenched, chest heaving. "What is this?" He asked Antonius in wretched desolation, his voice filled with defeat without even having been given the opportunity to engage his enemy.

"This," the Archon said with a certainty that filled Fenris with dread "is exactly where they want us."

xxxx

Hawke didn't remember crying when her mother died. She didn't remember crying when the Arishok ran her through. She didn't remember crying when the rubble of the Chantry burned. But this...this broke her.

She didn't know which blow it started with but it had started. Tears and sobbing and the feeling that it was all too much mixed with the painful certainty that surrender was not an option. So she endured and she cried. She didn't know if the Seeker had been ordered to do this. She knew he couldn't allow himself to believe that Anders never trusted her enough to share any information with her about the rebellion, even if they did share a bed. If she was honest with herself, she couldn't blame her captor for thinking this was his only option to try and do what he thought was right. He was trying to protect people just as she was trying to protect people.

But it really was too much to bear that she was being forced to protect the Seeker who was torturing her.

She had known the moment the two demons emerged. Stinking of blood and dark magic, she couldn't make out much of their appearance through her battered eyes, but it was inevitable, she supposed, that some demon somewhere would try to take advantage of her desperate situation. That there were two of them wasn't much of a surprise either because for as desperate as she was, she was shocked there weren't more. She only heard snippets of what they were saying. They didn't speak in Trade, which she thought was odd. If they were trying to possess her, she would have thought they'd at least speak her language. Every other demon she'd had the misfortune to speak with had courtesy enough to talk to her in Trade. She almost thought it sounded like they were speaking Tevene, but her Tevene was so rusty she wasn't really sure.

When another fist hit her in the gut she went blind with pain for a moment and she struggled to keep hold of the barrier.

She couldn't deny her weakness when the Seeker started landing his blows. The dark and bitter part of her that was all too close to the surface since she and Anders fled Kirkwall wished the man dead. And it was at that moment that one of the demons had been bold enough to try and fulfill that wish for her. She cursed the slip in her focus that allowed a demon to use her anger and she gathered her magic as quickly as she could, forming an invisible barrier to try and keep it from attacking the Seeker.

The last thing she needed was to be accused of blood magic. Maker knew, enough of her blood was spilled about. If a Seeker was found dead at her feet, killed by a demon that had preyed upon her moment of weakness, she would deserve whatever punishment she was given.

But it was getting to be too much. And she cried. Withstanding the physical assault while manifesting her powers to try to keep demons at bay was just too much. It was too much that her world had collapsed. It was too much that she was run from her home. It was too much that, for good or ill she wasn't yet sure, she had tethered herself to the man who had deceived her but said he loved her. It was too much that all she held dear was dead, and the future held no hope for her. To have to fight back demons while getting tortured was just too much. And she cried.

She could feel consciousness slipping away from her and she struggled to hold onto her magic. Thankfully, just as she was sure she could no longer hold up the barrier, the Seeker backed away. She let her head fall, but kept her magic up.

The man spoke. "This is getting us no where I see." He bent to pick up the cloth he had thrown at her earlier where it had landed on the floor and proceeded to wipe her blood from his hands.

Hawke coughed out, trying to sound defiant when defiance was the last thing she could waste her energy on. "I won't let you make me tranquil."

"It may yet come to that, Champion, but not right now. Right now, we have other ways of making you talk." And with that, the Seeker turned and left her with her demons.

xxxx

Fenris let out an exhausted breath when the Seeker turned to leave. The thing spared the elf one more direct and self-satisfied glance before he walked from the room.

Fenris could sense the barrier drop just as the demon disappeared around the far corner and he rushed forward. He didn't know what to think when Antonius rushed forward at his side, but he was too concerned for Marian to wonder very long at the unexpected show of solidarity.

"Fenris, carefully." The Archon warned and Fenris agreed with him. He approached Marian slowly, hands extended, silently praying to whatever cursed gods ruled over the Fade that she would be able to see and hear him.

"Marian..." He said as softly as he could, willing her to respond to him.

When she spoke, however, the torture continued.

"Stay back, demons!" She lifted her head and literally spit blood in his face along with the words. "I won't let you harm anyone here, no matter what. I may be chained, but my magic is not. I don't have it in me right now to get rid of you completely, but I can hold you back indefinitely if I need to."

"It was her." Antonius exclaimed in awe. "She thinks we're the demons and she was trying to keep you from killing that Seeker."

"That demon!" Fenris shouted at him, then he turned back to Marian, not bothering to wipe the blood from his face. "We are not the demons, Marian. You are being deceived," he pleaded, "the Seeker is the demon controlling this place, here in the Fade. You need to focus and remember." Her words from earlier were coming back to haunt him as he begged her to step away from the cliff on which they found themselves.

She laughed back at him, bitterly. "You're a strong bastard, I'll give you that. I've never felt demon magic like yours before. And of course you would use my name. I hate my name."

Fenris closed his eyes and focused, trying to find some shred of calm when all he wanted to do was rip those chains off of her and gather her in his arms. He dropped to his knees before her and looked up into her swollen eyes. He thought he saw them go wide at his action, at least as wide as she was capable of opening them after the beating she had taken. "Marian, it was you who told me your name when we first met. I'm Fenris. And you are my Marian." Fenris swallowed down his pride and his self-consciousness at having to speak like this in front of the Archon. It was for Marian and he would do it, no matter who his audience was. "This is all a nightmare. A falsehood. A lie. This is not your future. It is a demon's fabrication; a demon we're here to conquer, together. This is not real. Your future is with me. You must remember."

"Why would a demon be speaking to me in Tevene?"

Fenris clenched his fists and cursed her ridiculousness. He couldn't believe that this is what she wanted to know after everything he had said.

"She is impossible." Antonius commented under his breath.

Marian heard him. "That's right I am, demon. You'll get no where with me. Maybe you should be a little less obvious the next time you try to lure in a mage who knows better. Honestly. Reeking of dark magic and," she looked down at Fenris again, "is that lyrium? Is the Black City churning out demons made of lyrium now as an extra enticement?" She managed a mocking tone despite her forlorn state. " 'Let's offer the hunted, beaten mage a sexy elf drenched in lyrium.' Are you some kind of hornless desire demon?"

Fenris could feel Antonius raise an eyebrow behind him, but the human wisely remained silent.

"Marian, please, I'm begging you." Fenris spoke a little more firmly and this time he spoke in Trade. He rose to his feet, now the one looking down at her. Despite her protests, she lifted her head to look back at him. "You are not this person. You are not hunted. You are a free mage. You are not on the run with a renegade abomination. You have not been captured by Seekers. You live a free life, with me, and I will keep you safe, I swear, we can leave here, just please try to believe me, please remember..." Fenris stopped his desperate petitioning, not knowing what else he could possibly say or do to get through to her. He brought his hands up to his head in a hopeless gesture and tried to think of something, anything, when Antonius spoke.

"Fenris. There."

He raised his eyes to the sound of armor clattering against stone and shuffling feet. Antonius backed away and Fenris stepped protectively in front of Marian. From around the corner, the Seeker emerged, pushing ahead of him the bound and collared form of a mage Fenris knew all too well now. Fenris closed his eyes and whispered a spiteful curse at the clever Fates.

The Seeker-demon shoved his captive into the room and Anders fell to his knees on the floor.


	62. Victory

Antonius pulled Fenris away from the actors in the dangerous farce they were trapped in. Fenris was too overcome by his frustration to register anger at being touched. He allowed himself to be dragged by his arm backwards while still looking on, staggered, trying to frantically formulate a plan of action.

"Sometimes the best action is inaction." Antonius leaned into him, still holding his arm as he harshly whispered an answer to Fenris's unspoken question. "I haven't had one foot in the Fade with demons for this long without learning how to keep the upper hand."

"The 'upper hand'?" Fenris yanked his arm away. "We are being manipulated and tortured in a corner of the Fade with no apparent exit. You call this the 'upper hand'?"

Antonius exuded his typical irritating calm. He opened his hand out to the other three humans, reiterating with a gesture his opinion that observation alone was the prudent option. "Why give them the satisfaction of railing against this predicament. Don't play the game. You said you trusted her. So trust her. Trust her to put the pieces together on her own. Or do you think the demon knows her better than you?"

Fenris chose not to be baited by that deliberately impudent question. He looked at his Marian. She was holding herself upright now, as much as she was able in her position. Her face was like stone but for her eyes moving back and forth between the Seeker and Anders. It seemed Fenris and Antonius were back in a position of being ignored as no one had acknowledged their movements or conversation. He hadn't felt Marian bring her barrier back up. He could try to attack the demon masquerading as a Seeker now. But how would that look to Marian, when her mind still believed this false future? She might try to stop him again. If he acted like the demon she thought he was, it might push her further away. And he couldn't afford to push her deeper into the arms of this dark Fate.

Fenris glared at Antonius. For every way the man was different from other magisters, he was just like them in every other way. Fenris wanted to shove his cold inaction and careless indifference down his throat until he choked on it. Out of spite alone, for being dragged with Marian into this mess, he wanted to start spilling blood and unleashing chaos, consequences be damned.

But he didn't. Ultimately, the Archon was correct. So, Fenris surrendered to strategy, focused on his control and observed.

xxxx

Hawke had assumed the Seekers would try to use one of them against the other. But she had also assumed it would be her that they would try to use against Anders. She had already resigned herself to that. And maybe that was what she wanted; a way out of the future that held nothing for her but running and regretting. She allowed herself a moment to think back on her life, wondering when she had changed so much. She had always been a survivor if she was nothing else. Life mattered to her. At least it had. Now, it simply seemed like an obligation with no reprieve.

She forced herself to keep her eyes locked on the Seeker. She tried to silence the painful rattle of her breath going in and out of a broken nose and past cracked ribs. The impossible irony that this Chantry dog could offer her an exit from the hopeless madness of her current existence almost made her smile. She always knew, and always expected, in a situation like this that Anders would choose his cause over her. Justice would never allow otherwise. And it wasn't as if he hadn't already made that choice when he started this rebellion in the first place.

With that supposition always at the front of her mind, the fact that it was Anders instead who now knelt before her, his chains being held by the Seeker, was a scenario she had not envisioned and was not prepared for.

She spared a quick glance at the lyrium demon who had backed away. At first it seemed like he was about to try and attack again but the other demon pulled him back. The two of them exchanged whispers Hawke couldn't make out and then they both settled into the shadows and simply looked on. Perhaps the hot-headed one was some kind of demon in training. He didn't seem very good yet at patiently waiting for his prey to come to him, so she was glad the quiet one was able to settle him down. She didn't want to have to erect a barrier against him again while simultaneously having to deal with whatever fresh torture the Seeker had in store. Maybe they would be happy enough simply watching the tragedy they had stumbled upon and then be on their way in search of other entertainments.

The Seeker started. "I'll make this simple, Champion. What I understand from this one," he kicked at Anders, who kept his eyes on the floor, "is that you are a straightforward woman. I, myself, am a simple soldier so I can appreciate that."

Hawke watched as the 'simple soldier' pulled a knife from his boot. He grabbed up a fistful of blond hair and brought the knife up to Anders' throat.

Anders looked up now, his honey eyes linking with Hawke's as the Seeker continued. "No one has to die, and no one has to be made tranquil. All you have to do is help us restore order. Tell us what you know, and help us bring the rest of your wayward friends back into the fold. No more killing, no more fighting. We go back to the way it was before. We won't even hurt your proud little lover here. If you pave the way for him and show him there's really no other way, I'm sure he'll come around. If he doesn't, we'll let you deal with him." The Seeker tightened his grip and pulled his knife in closer. "If, however, you choose to remain silent, I'll have to end him right here. And then where would your rebellion be?"

If everything didn't hurt so much, Hawke would have laughed. If it was she who had the blade to her throat, she had no doubt Anders would allow her to die if it meant the fight for mage freedom could live on. But in this position, with the roles reversed, she knew exactly what he would want her to do. But was she prepared to do it?

The Seeker saw her hesitation. "Make the deal with me, Champion or watch him die." He lowered his voice and his eyes seemed to change. Hawke saw something strange there she hadn't notice before, even when he was beating her earlier. "Choose wisely. It is the future at stake, after all."

Of course her first instinct was to make the deal. She had always done everything in her power so that she could live to fight another day. But she desperately wanted to be done fighting, and living another day seemed like just another day of wasted breath. And she knew what Anders would want...

And then Anders spoke. His voice was soft and familiar, but the golden eyes that looked back at her were different than she remembered somehow. "It can't end like this, love. We'll find another way, but for now, we should make the deal."

xxxx

If Fenris believed in a Maker, he would have shouted out praise to him in that moment. The demon had made a misstep. In trying to convince Marian to bind herself to this false future, the vile thing had gone too far. The Anders that Marian had told him about, the Anders her friends spoke of, the Anders he had met wandering the Fade would never tell her to bend. Whatever this thing was on its knees before them, it was not Anders. The real Anders would want to be martyred. He had been martyred in the real world as he had intended. All the demon was doing now was allowing Marian the opportunity to re-make the choice she had already made once before

Fenris held his breath, waiting to see if she would remember the distant choice that had put her on the path to their future together, and if the memory would put her back on that path.

xxxx

Anders would never say that!

Hawke struggled to keep herself composed. She looked at Anders. His familiar face suddenly appeared so foreign. She looked at the Seeker. There was still something so different there as well. What had changed?

She tried to reason through it in her head. Anders wants nothing more than to be martyred. She knew that for a fact. When she spared him in Kirkwall, she knew he wasn't expecting it. She knew he had not planned on living past that moment and every day since then he had grown even more obsessed, more dangerous, and more reckless and it was all Hawke could do to keep anyone, friend or foe, who crossed their path safe from his and Justice's manipulations.

Anders would know she would want to make the deal. Of course she would want to protect who she could at all costs even if that meant returning the mages to the circle. She had thought he would sooner throw himself on that knife blade before he let her try to reverse the war he started.

How could she have been so wrong? But was she wrong? Or was this wrong?

"Make your choice, Champion!" The Seeker seemed impatient now. "Spare him and you spare the lives of thousands of your comrades."

Make her choice? Spare him? She closed her eyes against a distant memory that had risen unbidden to the surface of her turbulent thoughts. Hadn't she already made this choice? A scene played out in her mind's eye. A scene where the blade held against Anders was her own. And from that memory, dozens more erupted out. Her flight across the seas. The heat of the Tevinter sun. The smell of leather and steel. Green eyes and dark magic. And the song of lyrium vibrating beneath her fingertips.

She opened her eyes and she remembered.

xxxx

Fenris knew the moment she was his again. The struggle in her eyes disappeared. The slouch of her shoulders straightened. And her hands that had hung limp in their chains all this time clenched into fists.

When she spoke, the melancholy in her voice was gone.

"Go ahead." She said slowly as she smiled. "Kill him."

There was silence in the Fade. The blade dropped from Anders throat. Marian's arms dropped from the wall as if they were never held there in the first place. Chains still dangled from her wrists but she didn't seem to be aware of their presence. She took one step forward, and Fenris felt his lips curl up in a grin. His magister had menace enough to give any demon pause.

She spoke to the Seeker again, advancing more, her chains clinking as she moved. "No? I didn't think so. Let's wash away the pretenses then, shall we?"

Suddenly, the dim torchlight went out and they were surrounded by solid darkness. He felt Antonius tense and raise his defenses. Fenris did the same, his lyrium igniting, but the light of it didn't penetrate through the dark. He felt Marian's magic roll out around them, thick and heavy, and he wanted to reach out and touch it, he wanted to open his mouth and taste it, he wanted to revel in it. It felt like victory.


	63. Outnumbered

Hawke let her magic push out against the darkness. She tingled when the waves of her power made contact with the lyrium in her lover's skin. Her lover. Her real lover. The only one she had ever truly wanted. The one she belonged to. And she had thought he was a demon. It seemed Antonius was right after all. She was an idiot.

Well, it wasn't as if Fenris didn't already know that about her.

She resisted the urge to throw herself at him. She wanted to cling to him and kiss him and hear him whisper in her ear. She wanted his touch to wipe away the taint of the dismal false future she had tasted. The despair of it still stuck like a film of sickness around her heart and she desperately wanted her beautiful elf to wash it away. But there was work to be done and obligations to fulfill. And she was nothing if not true to her word. She had promised to help Antonius, and she would.

She twisted her wrists against the chains still hanging from them. She was fully aware of their weight now and even more than that they seemed to pull at her. Unfortunately she didn't know if it was her anchor in the real world that pulled, or if it was the Fade trying to suck her deeper in. Whichever it was, she wasn't only holding herself in place. If Antonius was correct, she was holding him and Fenris as well. So she flexed her small muscles and swore she would hold on no matter what.

She was presented with exactly 'what' when the space around them suddenly went from blackness to light. It was no longer the torch light of a dungeon, however, it was an eerie glow that seemed to emanate from no particular source. They were still in the abandoned keep as far as she could tell, but before her, the Seeker of Truth and the doppelgänger of Anders were gone. There was now the specter of white, all pale skin and empty eye sockets, that Hawke recognized as the demon that created Fenris's past. And next to it was a specter of black that could only be the demon that dared try and trap her in that vile mockery of a future. The black demon was not so much a color as it was a void; a hole in space in the vague shape of a human. The only clue that it was a tangible thing were the tattered rags of a dark robe that hung from it.

Fenris's demon wore its sick smile. Hawke's demon wore no face at all. Before Hawke could focus her waves of magic at a target, she heard Fenris growl and lunge past her, hurling himself at the demon of his past. Her wolf shot forward with all the crazed fury that she could feel had coiled tight inside him. He had the thing by the neck in an instant, clenching his fist around its throat. The two locked together in struggle, a blur of light and magic. Fenris had already silenced that demon once, so Hawke had no doubt that he could do it again, especially fueled by the rage he was now letting loose. As for her, she decided to follow after Fenris. She took a step towards her demon and grabbed at where she thought the neck might be. Her fingers made contact with what felt like flesh even if it appeared she was only holding onto a black space. She squeezed, and the feeling of vengeful satisfaction she derived from choking the demon was enough that she didn't bother to wonder if the thing even required air to sustain itself.

"Hawke, wait!"

She only barely registered Antonius shouting at her and she wasn't thinking at all about the fact that the demon in her grasp had yet to fight back or even move. But the next thing the Archon said stopped her revenge cold.

"There is never only one future...there are thousands..."

And as if on command those words came to life. Dozens, hundreds, and hundreds more black specters began to materialize all around them. The crumbling stone walls of the keep, still illuminated in an otherworldly glow, expanded outward to allow for their number. Hawke's grip loosened and her hands fell as she whipped her head from side to side taking in the sight. She seemed to be moving father away from Antonius where he stood and father away from Fenris where he grappled with the other demon, separated from them both by the rapidly multiplying hoard.

Thousands of demons, thousands of possible futures stood before her now, blocking the path to the one future she wanted; the one that led out of the nightmare and back to her home with Fenris

Hawke took a moment to absorb the state of affairs. Outnumbered. Hostile territory. Seemingly insurmountable foe. It must be Tuesday.

xxxx

Fenris had his demon pinned to the ground and he was pouring all the force of his destructive magic into it when he heard Antonius shout. He turned his head towards Marian and the Archon for the briefest of moments. When he turned back, the demon beneath him started to dissolve away into nothing just like it had before. In a matter of seconds the thing disappeared from out of his grasp and he was left kneeling on the floor.

He heard Antonius speak again. Fenris stood slowly. He wanted to believe he hadn't heard what he thought he heard, but the bliss of ignorance was short lived. As quickly as the demon of the past had vanished, the demons of the future took its place a thousand times over. Fenris didn't bother to count, there were far too many. Whether they numbered in the hundreds or thousands was irrelevant. It didn't change the fact that they who stood in opposition were but three.

When he realized how far away Marian now was, separated from him by countless Fates, he tried to make a run towards her. He pushed past several demon forms that gave no response when he shoved them aside, but he had taken no more than a few steps when he realized the crowd was growing thicker as he tried to move forward. Even if they weren't trying to impede him by force, they were impeding him by sheer volume. He stopped and tried to clear the way using his magic, but it only seemed to get sucked harmlessly into the human shaped black holes in tattered robes surrounding him. He let out a frustrated cry, finding himself once again in a position of helplessness, not knowing how to proceed.

But actually, he did know how to proceed. He wasn't alone. Whenever he was lost he knew he could look to Marian, so that was what he did. His eyes found hers through the demon throngs as if she had been waiting for him to find and focus on her. She was everything he knew she was as she stood there, so far away from him. She was confidence and pride, determination and recklessness. She was completely his, and she was fierce in all things. Her lips didn't move but her heard her say, 'I've got this', before she turned her gaze back to the demon directly in front of her.

Fenris saw the line of her jaw tighten and her eyes turned cold and hard. She inhaled deeply and held the breath inside of her. He felt her magic swell like a wave, huge and wild. When she exhaled, so did he, eager to see what his mage had in store for their enemy.

Marian slowly and calmly lifted one hand back up to grasp the throat of the demon and she closed her eyes. Fenris wanted to keep his focus on her but he turned when he felt another set of eyes on him. Right beside him was another Marian, standing in front of one of the demon copies. Fenris looked back over to where his Marian had the Fate by the throat, still concentrating. He shot his eyes back to the second Marian who now raised her hand to her demon's throat. And then he saw a third Marian do the same. Then a fourth. In less time than it took for the demon to multiply itself, each one of them now had its own Marian choking it. Thousands of dark futures being stifled by thousands of Marians and she meant to erase them all.

After one silent moment, after each demon was partnered, Fenris saw a flame burst forth from one of the Marian's hands. The fire encompassed both her and the demon and Fenris watched the pair burn until another fire caught his attention, and another and another until there were a thousand burning demons with a thousand Marian's wielding the flames.

Fenris felt the heat all around him achieving dangerous temperatures. When before he was content to watch his lover's revenge unfold, he now worried he might have to stop her from losing control of her vast magic that she was so easily letting loose here in the Fade. He had no idea what he would do but he was about to do something when one of the bonfires suddenly died out leaving nothing but ashes fluttering to the floor. In yet another chain reaction, the same happened to all the burning demons around him, the Marian copies disappearing along with them. The numbers quickly thinned, and soon only one black demon and only one Marian was left engulfed in mageflame.

Stone walls narrowed back in and everything drew closer together again. Fenris advanced as closely as he could to the pyre that was his lover. Through the orange flames leaping upward he saw her standing, hand still raised to the demon's throat, her head thrown back and a smile on her face. She was beautiful. The fire intensified, burning blue and then white. Fenris knew he should back away but he didn't want to. He wanted to jump inside the inferno and melt against Marian's magic. The intensity of her power was intoxicating. He almost took a dangerous step forward, but Antonius pulled him back and raised a protective shield around them. Fenris watched him concentrating to keep out Marian's fire.

The white hot flames rose higher and brightened and there came a point when Fenris had to look away, instinctively shielding his eyes with his arm. He winced against a painful flash of light and a flare of suffocating heat. He felt Antonius falter against the might of Marian's magic, but he held out just long enough. From behind his hidden eyes, Fenris felt the room go dark and cold again. He blinked away blindness and when he was able to focus he saw Marian standing alone, smiling when she spoke.

"Well, that wasn't so hard."

Fenris could have hit her. Instead, he kissed her. He closed the distance between them with barely a thought and his lips were on her. His arms were wrapped around her. He squeezed her so hard he felt her breath push out of her lungs and into his mouth. He didn't care that Antonius saw. He didn't care if every demon in the Fade sat in audience. He kissed her because he had to, because he wanted to and because he could.

"I missed you." He breathed out the words without even really pulling away from their kiss.

Marian separated from him as much as he would allow so that she could reply. "I didn't really go anywhere, love. But I think you knew that. Thanks for having faith." She pushed him gently backwards, catching her breath. "We're not exactly done yet, though."

"Indeed." Fenris heard Antonius behind them and watched him approach what looked to be a very large gate set in the stone wall of the dungeon. The design of it should have allowed them to see through the intricately crafted iron bars, but there seemed to be nothing beyond it. Knowing what he would find, Fenris turned around and saw the door they had entered this keep through appear on the opposite wall, wide open into darkness. "Another door..." Antonius mumbled as he ran his fingers over the metal scroll work.

Fenris squinted in the low light. He recognized that gate. "Isn't that..."

Antonius finished for him. "...the gate at the entrance to my garden."

Fenris felt Marian slump against him. "I don't suppose that means that's our exit?" She said. He was amused she even had the energy to sound hopeful. Or at least pretend to.

Antonius gently caressed the latch holding the wide double doors of the gate shut. "No, I don't suppose it is." He slowly opened the latch and swung the doors open. "She must be here..." There was a heartbreaking combination of hope and pain in the Archon's words.

Fenris pulled Marian close again. He had only lost her to this nightmare for the briefest of times and now she was in his arms again. The thought of being in the Archon's position, not having any idea or any control over what was happening to the woman he loved and the son she carried was enough to make Fenris choke back cold terror. He released Marian and came up behind Antonius.

"We should attempt to enter together." He told the human as they stared together into the darkness beyond the open gate. "Surely by now these demons realize separating us will do them no good."

"Mmm." Was all Antonius said in reply as he continued trying to see the unseeable past the doorway. Then he turned around to question Marian. "You wear more of those chains now than when we entered this place." His brow furrowed as he studied the chains now encircling both of her wrists. "They look heavier."

Marian picked up her hands and rubbed at the metal links, shaking her head dismissively. "It's nothing I can't handle. You don't have to worry about me."

Antonius raised one eyebrow. "You are making a presumption. I am worried that you won't be capable of maintaining the foothold we require to escape this place once I have Renna back."

"Excuse me, but you're the one who said I had 'impressive magic'." Marian bit back at him shaking her chains in the air. "Well, it's this 'impressive magic' that's going to get all our asses back home once we find her." She glanced at Fenris and gave him a wink before turning back to Antonius with a smile. "So why don't you have a little faith."

"We waste time." Antonius said impatiently.

Fenris gave Marian one more lingering kiss before he said, "You're sure you'll be alright?"

"Of course." She replied simply and confidently, as was her way.

His eyes lingered on her lips, not wanting to meet hers when he said what he needed to say. "Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Marian." He took a deep breath. "Promise me..." He hesitated. "Promise me you won't die." His lips fell against hers again before he could finish. When he did finally say what must be said, it was with urgency and desire. "I can't bear the thought of living without you."

Marian replied again. Simple and confident. "I don't make that promise unless you do."

His next words were rushed and breathless, but no words had ever felt more true as they passed his lips. "Nothing is going to keep me from you."

Any response Marian might have had to that was swallowed up in a deep and hungry kiss. There were hands and tongues and there was lyrium and magic. And it was perfect.

It was with the taste of Marian in his mouth and the feeling of her magic on his skin that he turned with her hand in his and the three of them stepped through the doorway.


	64. Present

Fenris emerged from the gate and into the Archon's labyrinthine gardens; or at least the Fade's approximation of them. The sky was a dim evening violet but there were no stars and no moons to cast any light. The air was humid and thick with a floral perfume. He looked down and found his hand empty. There was no Marian attached to it.

"Venhedis!" He swore. Not again! He grit his teeth and attempted to take a calming breath.

"You shouldn't worry so much, Friend." Antonius stepped forward with a more relaxed attitude than Fenris had seen in him since they entered the Fade. "She has proven capable of protecting herself."

Friend? It struck Fenris as odd that Antonius would dispense with the formality of his station and address him so casually but he said nothing.

Fenris gathered himself and marshalled his faith...again. He would soon be back with Marian. He had no reason to doubt. They had yet to encounter a foe they weren't able to best. Before this was done she would turn him into an optimist. He changed the subject to their present situation. "These appear to be your gardens, Excellency." Fenris chose to use the appropriate demonstrative just in case the Archon was testing him somehow.

"Yes, they are. I am certain we will find Renna here. We should proceed as quickly as possible."

It was also quite strange that Antonius would abandon his normal caution and calculation, but Fenris reminded himself that love and fear were strange and urgent motivators. Antonius started down a narrow path between tall hedges and Fenris followed.

xxxx

Hawke stepped gingerly onto soft grass under a dark sky. They were indeed in the Archon's gardens, just as she remembered them from that horrible party. She looked down and found Fenris still holding her hand. Her heart thumped proudly and she squeezed him. She inhaled a relieved breath of air as she took in her surroundings and found Antoinus was not with them.

"The demons seem to have separated us from Antoinus this time." She said as she peered down each of the winding paths ahead. "Not very bright of them to leave the two of us together, if you ask me, considering the damage we've already dealt them. Twice." She didn't bother to hide her smugness. She was with Fenris. No matter what happened. They could fight together.

"Perhaps this is our opportunity to escape this place without him then." Fenris released her hand and shifted his weight. He looked uncomfortable, but not in a way Hawke had ever seen before. His idle movement lacked their normal fluidity, lacked his typical inherent grace. It was a subtle change but not one that would go unnoticed by Hawke. What Fenris didn't say with words he said with actions and she had long since come to live and breathe by each lovely and meaningful twitch of his muscles and each minute shimmer of his lyrium. He wasn't himself at the moment.

Hawke tilted her head in consideration. She also wouldn't have expected Fenris to try and go back on his word to help Antoinus and Renna, but then again, she knew very well that he would do anything to keep her safe, even if it did mean betraying the Archon. "No matter what, we still have to find a way out." Hawke decided not to agree with him, but she didn't want to seem reckless by ignoring his concern and charging ahead. He would come around and do the right thing like always, she just had to lead him in that direction and try to make him more at ease. "Let's look around. We'll likely find Antoinus and Renna soon. If we meet resistance, it will be easier to battle through with the four of us working together."

She made to walk forward, but just as she started the motion she realized how heavy her body felt. The chains. She lifted her hands and she still wore them around both of her wrists, but they now snaked up her arms and across her chest as well. The weight of them pulled at her. But she was strong and her magic was strong and she knew she could endure it, at least for now.

Fenris appeared to have a different opinion. "You cannot go on like this." He looked at her encumbrance skeptically. "Going back the way we came might be a better option than moving forward."

"Go back? What are you saying?" Hawke wondered how he could possibly think going back through their respective nightmares was a good idea. She seriously doubted it would be as simple as strolling back through the open doorways and into their mansion in the real world. It was unlike him to turn away from a fight. Try to her leave her behind in a misguided effort to keep her safe? Sure, he had attempted that before, but for him to want to retreat? It was strange and Hawke found herself feeling a little unsettled by these incongruous words and actions.

"We're not going back, Fenris." Hawke couldn't remember the last time she used such a forceful and serious tone with him. She left no room for opposition. She marched down the nearest path, her head high and her pace as quick as she could manage. She fully expected Fenris to follow her. Which he did, but she had taken nearly a dozen paces before he did so.

xxxx

Antonius swallowed down bile when he found himself standing next to Hawke, and only Hawke. The elf he could tolerate, respect even. But her. This woman grated on every last nerve. When she wasn't relentlessly rambling she was glaring disapprovingly. The horrible irony was that she was too ignorant to know that the magic she wielded was far more dangerous than any blood magic he had ever in his life practiced.

"These are my gardens." He spoke to her as if she was a child, capable of only the rudest of concrete thoughts. "Renna must be close by, but we need to be cautious," and then he added for his own benefit, "and as silent as possible."

"As you say, Excellency." She replied with a smile and she opened her hand out for him to lead the way.

Antonius was ready to rebut what he assumed was going to be an argument. When he realized she was deferring to him, he simply nodded, turned and started down the path to his mansion. He was so shocked by her respectful compliance, he failed to notice that this Hawke wore no chains as she obediently followed him.

xxxx

"And what will you do if you escape this place, Fenris?" Antonius seemed to be wandering aimlessly through the maze of his own gardens. Fenris didn't ask if the man had a plan. For now, he simply followed, but with each bend they rounded, meeting nothing but plants, he was getting more and more frustrated at their directionless stroll through the Fade. Fenris considered his answer carefully. It wasn't lost on him that Antonius had very clearly said 'if you escape' and not 'we'.

"I prefer to focus on the present, Excellency. There is work here yet to be done." His reply had a bite to it that he wasn't entirely regretful of. Every few paces the Archon would ask some inane question or other, making this walk even more bizarre. So if the man insisted on asking these impudent questions he would get impudent answers. Fenris's infinite reserves of patience were running thin in this place.

"I would have thought you and Hawke would have many things to plan for if you are able to return to the waking world, given her...situation."

It was obviously a leading statement. Fenris was no longer in the mood to be led anywhere.

Fenris stopped and Antonius stopped as well, looking back at him. "Pardon me?" Fenris asked warily.

Antonius turned back around and continued walking. "Hm. I thought not." There was far too much knowing superiority in the man's voice. Something inside Fenris told him not to continue to follow, but he did anyway, unwilling now to just let this conversation go. So Fenris followed and Antonius continued. "For all the trust the two of you endlessly wax lyrical about, why doesn't it surprise me she didn't trust you with this bit of information." The infuriating lilt of barely formed laughter laced his words.

Fenris could feel his agitation coming to a peak. He quickly reminded himself of the company he was keeping. He reasoned that he would be a fool to believe anything this Archon said any more than he would have believed any other magister. But reason can sometimes be a difficult thing to hold onto in the Fade.

Antonius looked over his shoulder at Fenris and smiled. "She is pregnant with your child."

xxxx

Hawke was becoming more exhausted with each step. Though the chains fell loose from her, they felt as if they were pulling her straight down to the ground. Fenris continued to walk behind her but he hadn't spoken. Far from being the reassuring presence at her side that he usually was, right now he felt more like a harbinger of doom at her heels. Every time she turned to peak at him, he was staring glumly down at the grass, his fists clenching and unclenching.

And then, abruptly, he stopped. "Marian, how long do you presume to go on like this?"

"Like what?" She did her best to sound unaffected by her fatigue though she knew how unlikely it was that she could hide it from him.

"Like a damned stubborn fool, hiding the fact that you are barely able to walk." Then Fenris's voice lowered into a peculiar harshness, his usually smooth baritone gone. And while we are discussing things you're trying to hide from me, why don't you admit what else is going on?"

"What else?" She asked with a defensive edge. The fact that she was feeling defensive against Fenris was unnatural and her magic shuddered inside her.

"I know you're pregnant."

Hawke froze as she looked into Fenris's suddenly cold green eyes; a coldness she had never seen there before when he looked at her. How could he possibly know? There was nothing yet to know...it was far too early to know anything of the sort...

Two days, three at the most that she was late. She never kept very good track of her times. It was hardly anything out of the ordinary, or worth mentioning. But she knew the shock and confusion on her face were more incriminating than an admission, whether she was sure of anything or not.

Fenris's expression hardened even further. "You were either intentionally hiding this from me or Antonius must be right about your total lack of understanding of magic because even I can feel what grows inside you, Hawke."

'Hawke'? She thought to herself frantically. He had never called her 'Hawke' before. He had never acted like this before. Were they really having this discussion while their lives hung in the balance, at the mercy of demons in the Fade?

What is going on? She screamed the words inside her head, wanting to scream them at Fenris but finding herself unable to properly articulate her objections. Logic escaped her in the face of these unexpected and angry accusations from the one she loved, who only a short while ago had touchingly expressed his devotion. There could be no truth to what he was saying. She hadn't even considered it a possibility. It wasn't even in the scope of her reality. Was it? They had only just discovered themselves. How could they have created another? But what if they did? Could he feel it, this other life that hadn't yet made itself known to her? Without even understanding why, Hawke desperately wanted to feel it too.

"How could you possibly think I would hide something like that from you if it was true?" She demanded of the man before her who seemed more a stranger than her Fenris.

"How could you possibly think I would want to bring another mage into the world?" He sneered. "You know that I wouldn't. You know how I feel. Of course you would hide this from me. What if the thing has your powers, raised in Tevinter no less? Have you any idea how dangerous it would be?"

A blind rage rose up inside Hawke at those words. The emotion didn't feel like it belonged to her but she was so tired and she felt so heavy she wasn't sure she had it in her to contradict it. The force of the anger swelled with her magic and all the negative energy of their emotions seemed to make sense, even if it really didn't.

Fenris must have felt her letting her control slip, because his lyrium ignited and he brought his own magic into his hands. She would never know if she would have attacked him in that moment, because the Maker, it seemed, still had some mercy left for her.

An agonizing scream rent the humid air. It came from above and beyond them, somewhere in the distance. Hawke couldn't tell if it was human or elf or demon. She didn't care. Whatever was happening between her Fenris at present was very very wrong. She didn't understand it and she wasn't about to stay and find out how much worse it could get. She turned away from him and ran towards the scream.

xxxx

Fenris was staggered beneath the weight of every fear he had ever known, multiplied exponentially. Breath left him, words escaped him, and he ached. There could be no truth to the Archon's words. If the gods were merciful, there would be no truth to the Archon's words. And yet the ache inside him wasn't anger or hate or disbelief. It was want. A form put to a need. A shape put to a desire. A raw and nameless wish he hadn't dared to even let his thoughts linger near. A hope so delicate and fleeting that to acknowledge it would be to shatter it. And Antonius had just thrown it at him like so much refuse.

Suddenly Antonius wasn't an Archon, nor a desperate lover, nor a comrade at arms. He was a threat. He was threatening Fenris, and Marian. He was threatening his family. Lie or no, Fenris's world had expanded in the moment he heard those words. He no longer had only one thing to protect. Whether or not this was true right now, it could be true. He could make it true. He wanted it to be true. And he'd be damned before he let this malicious bastard try to deny him what he wanted.

Fenris let his lyrium burn beneath his skin and the black hole of his magic opened up. Antonius only smiled, not making any attempt to raise an attack or a defense. Fenris didn't know if he was capable of striking down an Archon, but he would have tried if the terrible screaming hadn't stopped him cold. It was far away from them, closer to where the mansion should be he thought. He couldn't tell if it sounded like Marian, but he couldn't take the chance that it wasn't.

Fenris left his fight with Antonius, knowing he would need to revisit it as soon as possible. Taking his magic with him, he fled towards the scream.

xxxx

"I'm afraid this is as far as I go, Excellency."

Antonius turned to Hawke. This was the first she had spoken since they started walking. They were only a few turns away from the front doors of his mansion if the Fade followed reality. He didn't speak. He just looked at her and let her continue.

"I'm glad Fenris isn't here because he might have tried to stop me. Then again, I might have been able to persuade him that this was for the best in the end."

Antonius moved his gaze from the woman's dark smile to her dark eyes. When he saw the blackness of her pupils spread, filling the whole almond shape of them he backed away a step and started summoning his magic.

"I can't allow you to leave here." Her voice had changed; deeper and strange. "I can't take the chance that if we let you return with us you will act against us. Against me, against Fenris, and against our child."

Of course he had been right. The fucking woman couldn't be trusted. And now here he was, trapped between his demons and this dangerous mage's whim. Everything he had built was falling down around him. Every sacrifice he had made, every hour spent in meticulous planning for every eventuality was now useless and for nothing.

Mindless anger overtook him at the thought of what he had been reduced to; some helpless fool being tossed about by fate with no knowledge of what lay ahead. He was not so weak as that. He would not allow this to stand. And he might have attacked her first if he hadn't heard Renna scream.


	65. Maleficar

Fenris tore through the maze. He didn't bother with the paths or the endless, infuriating turns. He ran straight through the tall hedges, their branches withering at the touch of his magic, allowing him passage. The time of careful strategy had passed. He would kill anything and everything he came upon until he found Marian.

Of course it had come to this; betrayal and pain and death. Such was the story told by the song of his lyrium. There would be no respite for him. Past, present and future, all doomed to be the same. He would have to kill Antonius to protect Marian and...their child. A child. It was only a word right now, and who knew if it was true? Yet that word had him running to keep it safe. Even if it was a lie, he knew he must. He was going to assassinate an Archon over that single word. He would be a fugitive again, damning the only family he would ever know along with him. There was no other way this could end. He must be prepared to kill or watch his future be killed. Neither choice held a hope for anything good. The Fates could have conjured no less for him. His life was turmoil and torment and darkness. And darkness begat darkness. The madness of it terrified him, and the terror drove him mad.

Fenris pushed his way through the dead leaves of another bush as it blackened against his hands. He found himself in a clearing, finally, with the Archon's mansion looming directly ahead. At the same moment, he saw Marian stumble out from an adjacent path. His jaw dropped at the sight of her, heavily burdened with chains, breathing hard and leaning forward, hands on her knees trying to suck in imaginary air. Before he could go to her, Antonius shot out from another path at the opposite end of the clearing. He was also out of breath and had an altogether more...frightened appearance than only a short while ago when he so casually and so subtly threatened Fenris's entire world with nothing more than a few words and a look. Fenris didn't know why the man approached from a different path if he had intended to follow him, but instantaneously it was made clear when the cold grey eyes of Antonius locked not on Fenris with murderous intent, but on Marian.

xxxx

Antonius ran to the front doors of his mansion as fast as he could. After the terrible scream that drew him here, he wasn't sure if he was relieved or panicked that Renna wasn't who he found. Fenris was standing in the clearing, having emerged from what looked to be the dried and crumbled remains of what was once full and beautiful foliage. Far from the normal wary readiness Fenris usually exhibited, he now appeared more a demented beast than an elf. And next to him was her...that crazy bitch who dared to threaten the life of an Archon. She couldn't have followed him when he ran from her after hearing Renna's scream. She must have wanted to find her lover first so they could join forces against him. She was panting and looking at the ground. It was the only opening Antonius would need. He would kill her before she even had a chance to look up.

xxxx

Hawke could hardly catch her breath. All she wanted to do was fall to the ground to escape the weight of the chains. When she realized she was no longer in the narrow maze she tried to look up, but instead of finding the source of the scream, she saw Fenris and Antonius. She took a step back. Antonius was focused on her. Fenris was focused on Antonius. Her elf looked just as troubled as he had when she ran from him, but in a different way. More...lunatic. Less...bastard. Actually both of them seemed more psychotic than she would have thought possible for two such stoic men. Before she could formulate a theory as to what was going on, each of them charged, eyes wild, muscles taut and magic large.

Antonius dove straight for her, cursing viciously, but there was neither the time nor the need for her to react because Fenris dove straight for him with what was practically a roar. The two men landed in a flailing heap on the ground, magic crackling around them. All Hawke could do as they struggled in the dirt and grass was watch, mouth gaping, words unable to form.

What in the Maker-forsaken void was going on?! How many times had she asked herself that on this ill-gotten quest? But she was almost grateful for the strange distraction as it prevented her thoughts from lingering on the uneasy conversation she had been having with Fenris. The too fresh memory of it squirmed uncomfortably in her gut even as she pushed away her other feelings about what might also soon be squirming there. They were feelings too raw and too important to work through here and now. Hope and fear and happiness and worry. Perhaps Fenris was feeling all those things as well, but even then, his reaction was still outside the realm of belief and suspicious doubts started creeping into Hawke's mind. He had almost seemed ready to attack her moments ago. That was not something she could accept as realistic. And now Antonius also wanted to attack her without obvious provocation? What could have happened to him in only a short while to warrant this? It seemed like she had missed something entirely, some point of clarification, some scene she failed to witness given the all out war going on now between the two normally composed men.

She considered she shouldn't be standing still like a dullard nailed to the grass by her confusion. She should be doing something to stop this, but she could also tell that neither of them was being entirely effective in their attacks. It might have been different if they both weren't so crazed. In the quick flashes she caught of their eyes she saw something wild and unreasonable there. Punches were being thrown and magic cut through the air looking for flesh to sink into. They were totally consumed. It was difficult to tell if there was purpose to this fight beyond the death of one of them. Twice, Antonius tried to break away from Fenris to go after Hawke again, but each time Fenris dragged him back down. Fenris had to have a reason for this. She had to trust he had a reason for something so utterly uncharacteristically reckless as assaulting an Archon. But what? And why? And how? She could have also asked the same questions of Antonius's behavior if she had had the time to continue her internal deliberations.

When the screaming started again from inside the mansion, Hawke was the only one who noticed. It was accompanied by pounding on the closed front doors. Hawke approached, one eye still trained on the grappling men. Even if they were too unfocused to do each other any real harm right now, she still had to be prepared to intervene if things changed. As she came up to the doors she realized the racket was being made by Renna, who was apparently locked in and trying to get out. She allowed herself a small breath of optimism. Finally something positive. Hawke tested the doors. There were no locks but they wouldn't open. She brought up a chain laden fist and pounded back to get Renna's attention.

"Renna, it's Hawke! Back as far away as you can, I'm going to try to open these." Hawke used as much force as she dared, not knowing what lay beyond and not wanting to harm the elf they were here trying to save. The doors ripped free from the frame and slammed back against the far wall of the large foyer. She leaned her head inside, magic still on her fingertips just in case. She found Renna crouched off to the side, thankfully appearing unharmed. When the other woman noticed Hawke she jumped up with a look of manic urgency and forcefulness that was nothing like the demure slave Hawke had spoken with only once in the real world.

Renna ran past Hawke, nearly knocking her down as she shouted. "Stop them! We have to stop them!"

Hawke's eyes went wide, once again too baffled to move. The pristinely beautiful elf was anything but as she literally threw herself onto the pile of fighting men. The woman had Antonius by the shoulders from behind in an instant, trying to use her smaller frame and slighter weight to pull him off of Fenris who was pinned to the ground. Fenris took advantage of the distraction and kicked the pair off of him, causing them to land backwards on the grass.

Antonius didn't register that someone was trying to restrain him, he struggled to right himself. Renna struggled with him, her yelling directed at him now. "Valen! Stop this!"

He didn't seem to hear her and he broke free, locking back into combat with Fenris. Renna surged forward again, this time pleading with Hawke over her shoulder. "Help me stop them! They were being manipulated. I saw all of you in the garden from the windows upstairs but I couldn't get out to warn you. You were each with one of the demons. You were all being manipulated. They'll kill each other, we have to stop them!"

Hawke was five kinds of a fool. That was it. The fog cleared and she saw clearly again. She saw where they had come from and how it led them to this. She didn't come through that gate with Fenris. She emerged next to one of the demons. Which meant that they had all been separated and manipulated individually. There was no telling what transpired between Fenris and his demon or between the Archon and his. Whatever it was must have been similar to what she experienced. If not for Renna's scream, Hawke might have found herself in a fight with someone she thought was Fenris. Antonius had tried to attack her when they all showed up in the clearing. Had his demon used her image to twist his actions against her. And what of Fenris? Was his demon playing at being Antonius? What could have been said to him to drive her lover into trying to kill an Archon?

It hardly mattered. What was important now was making these two see it as well. So she threw herself in too. Renna pulled at Antonius and Hawke pulled at Fenris, all four of them looking nothing if not ridiculous, pawns in the Fade as they were. Hawke's chains gave her enough added weight to be a significant impediment to Fenris, in addition to her actually knowing how to fight. Renna wasn't faring as well, totally overpowered and unskilled in combat. When Hawke was able to isolate Fenris, she did what she could to help the other pair by paralyzing Antonius with her magic. It was a weak spell, just enough to shock him into calming down, but not enough to enrage him further.

The four of them lay on the ground, Hawke sprawled across a confounded Fenris and Renna holding onto a paralyzed Antonius. They all stared at each other, catching their breath. Fenris was obviously confused, but he had control over his faculties enough now to trust that Hawke wouldn't stop him from killing Antonius for no reason. And that was how she knew this was her Fenris. The trust was back in his eyes. It was mixed with residual aggression, but nonetheless, it was there and it was reassuring.

When Antonius could move again, Fenris abruptly rolled and twisted them so she was behind him. He held his arm against her, holding her in place as he crouched, his limbs tense, ready to pounce again, but keeping still for now, waiting.

Hawke saw Renna whisper something into the Archon's ear. Antonius finally seemed to break free of the deadly delirium that held him. He spun around and grabbed the elf by her narrow shoulders. The two embraced. More words were whispered that Hawke couldn't make out. She saw his hand move across Renna's stomach to gently caress there. Hawke's throat tightened and she squeezed Fenris's hand. She wanted to talk to him. She needed to talk to him. Would the demons have exploited him using the same lies they used on her? Or the same truth? She had to tell him everything, they had to find out. She had to know...but of course it would have to wait.

Fenris turned his head just slightly back towards her, keeping a predator's eye on Antonius. "Marian, what...?"

She turned him around to face her. "Love, who did you come through the gate with?"

"I came through with Antonius. Were you alone? What did they do to you?" Fenris pulled her closer and inspected her.

"I didn't come through alone, Fenris, I came through with you. At least I thought it was you. You weren't with Antonius. We all had a demon at our side. I think they were trying to turn us against each other. Renna saw us but she was trapped inside the mansion. She was screaming, she was trying to warn us."

Fenris looked down, a slight furrow of his brow the only sign of some inner unrest. Was it...disappointment? Hawke couldn't tell because he recovered quickly. He grabbed Hawke's hand and shouted over to Antonius. "Excellency, we should..."

"...Go. Now." Antonius finished the order, also grabbing Renna by the hand. Strangely, the fact that Fenris and Antonius were in agreement again made Hawke feel fantastic. It seemed like the two men were about to drag their women away, but they were already far too late. Each path leading from the mansion back into the maze was blocked. In front of one path stood the double of Fenris, in front of another stood Antonius and in front of the third, stood Hawke. All three ghostly duplicates were smiling back at their counterparts, who had instinctively huddled together defensively.

Before their eyes, the fake Antonius vanished, leaving behind the now well known form of the white Fate of the past. The fake Fenris did the same, and in his place was left the black demon of the future. And then they all focused on the fake Hawke. She sauntered forward and perched her hands on her hips.

Hawke winced when she heard her own voice speak to them. "Our dear, delicious Valen." The final demon addressed the Archon who stepped forward defiantly after he pushed Renna behind Hawke and Fenris. The demon hummed seductively. "We've loved you more than you know. We would do anything for you, dearest, but now that we've tasted how much better it could be, we'll have to insist you leave your beautiful lover with us. You may go if you wish, and please call on us anytime."

xxxx

Antonius watched the demons fade away before he could tell them where they should shove their offer. He was done with this. He was done with everything. He would lead his family back to the world of the living and make his own way in it. He was the Imperial Archon and he would not be so easily subdued. Fenris and Hawke were not who he would have ideally chosen as allies in this life, but they were honest. It was a concept he was unfamiliar with, but at least he saw it now for what it was. Of all the manipulation he had both wrought and suffered, of everything that made him who he was, he finally realized that these two were made of something different. He would never be like them, but he could trust them. He almost enjoyed a moment of gratifying epiphany, until he saw Renna disappear from where she stood behind Hawke and Fenris and then reappear on the doorstep of his mansion, held in the embrace of the Hawke-demon. He rushed forward before she could even scream but he was caught by Fenris who held him back, for his own safety he knew, but he struggled anyway. When his love finally did scream it was a searing burning pain inside his ears as he watched the demon change behind her, holding her tighter.

The face of Hawke melted. Skin dripped away, exposed muscle and tendon liquified, the white of bone shone through and then over that poured blood. It oozed out of every hole and crack in the skeleton left behind until only the blood drenched form of a human remained, glowing red all on its own, no moonlight to aid it. It stained Renna's dark skin and matted her hair and she screamed more when the final Fate started pulling her back inside the mansion.

Conscious thought left him as he saw his past, his present and his future being yanked away. Both Hawke and Fenris were now trying to restrain him, but they couldn't stop him from pulling a tiny luminescent vial from his robes. He always did whatever it took to win. This was no different. He would not be defeated by these demons that he had controlled for so long. He would show them blood. And he would show them what a real Tevinter mage could do with it.

xxxx

Fenris had one arm across the Archon from behind, trying to hold him against his chest. Hawke pushed back on him from the front, trying to keep him from charging forward. Neither one of them thought to restrain his hands. Hawke saw it happen slowly. She would never really know if she didn't have the time to stop him, or if she lacked the will to stop him. She would also never know how it was possible that he brought the vial of her blood with him into the Fade. He stilled his struggling suddenly and Fenris almost fell backward when the opposing force was stopped. There was a proud and treacherous torrent behind his grey eyes as he held the vial aloft and shattered it inside his hand. Hawke marveled at the sight of her blood and his running down his wrist mingling together right before bedlam descended.


	66. Selfless

The thin trickle of mixed blood running down the Archon's wrist was deceiving in its small and innocent appearance. It was anything but. The space around them, the ground beneath them and the very sky itself hemorrhaged magic. Fenris felt Marian's essence at the core but it was corrupted by the way Antonius was using it. A brief but unnerving moment of silence was followed by a demon howl. The grotesque creature dragging Renna into the mansion stopped and for the first time Fenris thought he sensed true fear coming from their opponent. It was inevitable. He knew. Marian knew. Antonius was too perceptive not to know and that was exactly why he did it. The magic in Marian's blood was a thing to be reckoned with. It was a thing she had spent her life struggling to deny and control. There was no hope that Antonius could control it and no hope that the demons could combat it. But that also meant there was no hope any of them could endure its effects unscathed.

Fenris and Marian released Antonius at the same time. They did nothing to act against him or try to stop him. It was too late. They had skipped the stage of intervention and must now focus on survival. The Archon was standing still, likely unable to move. His body was trembling under the weight of the blood magic magnified beyond his capacity to wield by the nascent power that had been trapped in Marian's phylactery. His grey eyes had gone black and his pale hair whipped around behind him along with a sudden wind that was sweeping through the clearing. Perhaps it was the strength of his will or the magnitude of his love and the fear of losing it, but Antonius was able to hone a single attack from the raw energy and direct it at his demon.

The vile red-saturated form suddenly released Renna and she broke away. She was wise enough to steer clear of her lover and gathered together with Fenris and Marian to look on. The tremors wracking Antonius seemed to move into the demon and its violent oscillations were accompanied by the hum of magic that grew louder and stronger until just when Fenris thought the air itself would shatter from the vibrations, the thing exploded before them, blood spattering in all directions.

The respite of victory was not to be theirs, however, for that one massive effort to rid himself of this demon was all Antonius could handle of Marian's magic. He collapsed onto the ground, barely able to catch himself with his bloodied hand. Renna ran to him then and helped him up. He clutched at the slight form of his lover trying to stand. When the Archon was able to raise his head he looked up at Marian, and though there was grim satisfaction in his eyes there was also an awe that had never been there before. Fenris could understand. Her magic was unique. Her magic had been the thing to drive him to distraction, fill his life with passion and meaning when all he had been before was an empty husk built out of lyrium and pain. Her magic was an unknowable force trapped inside a beautiful human form shimmering under the surface of her skin. But her magic was also an unfathomably deep and dangerous well of power. And Antonius just drank from it. Much like Fenris, it was possible he would never be the same again.

But there was no time for the two men to commiserate. Fenris looked around in search of the dangers he knew would come. Only once had he seen Marian's magic run wild in the Fade when she had tried to rescue him from his nightmare with Danarius. There would be no monster, no spirit, no demon that didn't sense the power and the blood Antonius just released. And though he was expecting it, his heart still sank and his lyrium flared when he saw the distant dark horizon start to burn with flames. The ground shook beneath them as if announcing a stampede. The blood-spattered façade of the mansion started to crack and smoke rose up from the rapidly crumbling masonry. The green of the hedges and the grass smoldered and then ignited and there was nothing left to do but run.

xxxx

Flames engulfed the clearing. Hawke could feel the rapid approach of what she knew were far too many demons to even try to fight. It was definitely time to run. As if in response to that decision one of the chains coiled down her arm suddenly pulled, the end of it going taut before her seeming to point towards a clear path through the burning bushes. That spark of hope, however, was balanced by the chain on her other arm jerking her ferociously in the opposite direction towards the smoking mansion and the red horizon. Hawke could feel her own magic manifested before her beckoning, pleading, pulling, trying to lead them back to the world of the living. She hoped it was stronger than the magic trying to pull them deeper in.

"Time to go." She announced, but Fenris had already grabbed her arm and her companions had already starting moving towards the only clear path available. They all took a deep breath and they ran.

They ran through the maze of the garden as it burned, Fernis in the lead, holding onto Hawke and pulling her along with him. She firmly gripped the chain stretched out before her trying to help propel them forward back to the main gate, even as the chain trailing behind her tried to drag them back into the flames. She felt both Fenris and Antonius trying to use what magic they could to aid their escape, but blood magic and entropy were not the kinds of magic that were especially helpful at a time like this. She vowed to force Fenris to let Varania teach them both a thing or two when they returned...if they returned.

She could feel fire and demons at their heels when they finally reached the iron gate they had entered earlier. The four of them escaped the Archon's nightmare and found themselves back in Hawke's. The ruins of an unnamed keep now surrounded them, but none of them were stupid enough to pause. Their steps pounded on flagstone as they ran through a new maze of walls and corridors. The feeling of blood and fire gave way to the feeling of helplessness and darkness and Hawke had to focus with everything she had to shut out the too fresh memories of the terrible future she had experienced here. She focused on the chain of her magic still pulling them forward and she focused on fighting the chain of the Fade trying to yank her backwards.

They finally came upon another open doorway leading into Fenris's void and they charged through into the nothingness left behind after he laid waste to the nightmare of his past. Now they had no idea where they were running to, but still they didn't stop. All Hawke could see of Fenris were lines of lyrium suspended in front of her. She could see nothing of Antonius and Renna, though she knew they ran alongside. She felt her lover's hand on her arm. She felt the presence of his magic and she used the familiar sensation of it to maintain her hold on the here and now, for letting go would mean surrender, and that just wasn't her style.

Hawke felt a sudden hard tug on her arms and she gripped the metal links in each hand tightly as she skidded to a stop. The darkness around them gave way as a glow began to emanate from Hawke's chains. Fenris let go of her and stepped back with a gasp. He saw what she knew was happening all along.

Hawke stood with her heels dug into what passed for the ground in the void. One of her arms was chained to the last remaining door that now materialized out of the blackness before them, the door home. She wasn't sure if it was her exhausted magic holding it open or the strength of her will alone. Her other arm was extended painfully in the opposite direction and she felt the eyes of her companions follow its course as its glow brightened illuminating the Fates holding fast to the other end. All three of them grasped the chain, one white, one black and one blood drenched and behind them were the flames and the demon horde that had gathered to follow the tempting feast of the magic released from Hawke's blood.

The demons couldn't escape with Hawke and the others through the doorway, but they could try to keep her and her blood with them here in the Fade. Hawke dug in further. The door shook and she felt it trying to close. She pulled harder and so did the demons. She saw Fenris spare one glance at the demons and one at the door before he reached out and took hold of the chain tying her to the demons. Fenris threw all of his strength, magical and otherwise, into pulling back against the Fade. With his help, Hawke was able to redouble her efforts into holding open their exit.

Too strained to speak, she nodded frantically to Antonius and Renna, imploring them to go through the door. Renna darted her eyes between her and Fenris, hesitating, but Antonius needed no further preamble. He grabbed the elf and dove through the opening without so much as a glance backward.

The demons were advancing and the flames drew nearer. Fenris's lyrium was practically overtaking his skin as he struggled to keep them at bay. The doorway was starting to quake and crack and Hawke was feeling the real world slip away from her. Her anchor was uprooting and she wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer.

"Fenris," she managed to work up a command, trying to summon her confidence for him and sound anything but afraid, "go through now! I can handle myself here. Just go, I swear I'll make it out on my own!"

He seemed to be ignoring her, all of his intense focus on holding back both the hungry swarm and the Fates who had been denied their prize and were now trying to replace it.

"Fenris! For Maker's sake! Please! Go! Go, go, go go, go!" She screamed in hopeless anguish. Still he ignored her. Why? Why must he be so stubborn! She knew she could find a way to survive here and escape. She couldn't exactly remember when, but she was sure at some point she'd survived and escaped worse. But she had to get him out. She couldn't lose him. I can't lose him...not him...not ever, she had told her father. She would be stronger this time, this time she would win. Finally and for all time, she would win and no one and nothing would be taken from her. She could protect him and their future. He just had to fucking listen to her and leave!

When it came to it, though, she knew him better than that. He looked over at her with a strange and resolute look as he held fast to the chain, then he looked down at his hands. Hawke thought he relaxed a bit as she felt his magic focus and dissolve the metal. The chains separated, her on one end and him still holding onto the other. And she would swear he had a smile on his face as she was sucked away from him through the doorway, pulled violently back towards the real world by her magic that was no longer tethered to the demons. Before the door slammed shut in front of her, she saw him disappear into flame.

xxxx

It was a sad sort of peace that Fenris felt as Marian slipped away from him, but it was peace nonetheless. It was the best he could do for her...and the best he could do for the possible-hopeful-please-gods-let-it-be-safe child nestled inside her. The words of Anders came back to him. Hawke would always jump into the fire to protect those she loved. It was Fenris's job to keep the flames off of her, so he did. She would be furious, but she knew him better than to think he would have left her behind. For everything she had given him, this is what he could give back and he smiled to himself as he felt those flames close in around him.

xxxx

Hawke couldn't hear herself, but she felt herself screaming as she fell towards the living world. Her throat was raw and dry but she couldn't stop screaming and though she tore violently at the rapidly closing Veil, she couldn't pull herself back into the Fade, back to Fenris. When she finally landed inside her body it was like taking the Arishok's blade through her gut all over again. She sat up, but refused to open her eyes. She refused to see Fenris's body lying limp on the floor, eyes closed, never to open again. Her mind went black, her very soul shriveled in despair and for the first time ever she let herself lose control. Utterly. Completely. She was done. Done with this shit world, and the shit it gave her. And if the one perfect thing she had ever had would never open his eyes again, then neither would she. And neither would anyone else.

She could hear herself screaming now, as she squeezed her eyes tight trying to shut out the image of Fenris disappearing into demon fire. She squeezed her eyes tight and opened up her magic, letting loose her own fire. She would burn down the Veil to get him back and everything else with it.

xxxx

"Valen, help them!"

Antonius pulled Renna behind him, away from the wild flames bursting from Hawke. But for Fenris, they were all now back in their own skins, in the same bedroom of Hawke's mansion. He had heard the woman's screams as she fell back to wakefulness even before she arrived. He had felt her magic break free of the shackles he now knew she kept around it. He had tasted that magic and he was sure that never in his life would he experience its equal. He had no idea how she had come to be in possession of such power or how she managed to keep it so tightly controlled. Even though, right now, it was anything but under control.

He knew it would come to this. He knew one of these damned fools was going to sacrifice themselves. In the end, the good-hearted always lacked the will to persevere. They never really did what it took to force the desired outcome, to force a win. So of course the damn elf stayed behind. Antonius had almost thought Fenris was smarter than that, but love tended to rob one of all sense, a crime he was victim to himself.

He wasn't expecting, however, the very authoritative command from his typically demure lover, ordering him to fix the fools' mess. Antonius pushed back against Hawke's fire. He could see the two elven women who helped with the ritual across the room, also struggling not to be burned by the crazed mage's turbulent magic that was threatening to destroy them all.

He would never admit to the selflessness of his next actions. If asked, he would say he was simply saving his own hide, furthering his own agenda, or even just fulfilling a request from the mother of his child. Not to mention, there was no hope of subduing Hawke's magic, as it seemed that without Fenris she had lost the will to govern it.

The Archon bent over Fenris, still prone and lifeless on the floor. He snatched the blood-stained silk from the man's wrist. A token, the elf had told him, that held meaning for him. It would be enough. Antonius pulled a knife from his robes and in one slick movement sliced through both the ribbon and his own hand. The familiar and heady smell of blood joined the burning sulfurous stench of mageflame. Antonius drew from the magic in his own blood and the magic from the blood dried on the token. The old blood soaked into the cloth belonged to Fenris. He could feel it now, laced with dark magic and the tingle of lyrium. He smiled to himself with a supreme sense of gratification. This would be more than enough to bring the elf back from the Fade. And then he could see their faces when they realized they had blood magic to thank for giving them back their future.


	67. Living

Something pulled Fenris from the fire. It was sudden and the force of it ripped the breath from his chest. He heard demon voices and felt demon hands. His magic and his skin burned. And then he was sucked away. The flames disappeared and the noises of hunger and chaos went silent. Air whooshed past his ears and an icy chill spread over him as he fell away from the Fade. He knew he was falling away from the Fade somehow. He couldn't see anything, but he felt it. His magic seemed to pulse less inside him, his senses went dull, less sharp. He fell for what seemed like forever with a horrible dropping feeling in his gut and a pressure in his chest preventing him from drawing breath.

Perhaps the demons had released him in disappointment and were now letting him fall to his death. Perhaps they had just that quickly taken from him what they wanted and discarded him like a bloodless corpse. He briefly lamented the fact that he was never even given the opportunity to try to escape. But now, in any case, he was equally dead. Would he simply land in a dark oblivion, never to form another thought, his body left lifeless in the real world? Would he awake inside his own skin, tranquil? Again, in any case he was equally dead. He hoped he would simply never awaken. He couldn't bear the thought of Marian having to see him as a hollowed shell, alive but not who he was; and after all they had gone through to make him who he now was...

It would be easier for her if he was simply gone. Again he vainly wished he had had a chance to fight back. He would have. He would have done anything to get back to her. Vainly and too late he now realized that the test of true love was living for someone, not dying for them.

As he fell, he managed to make his muscles work to bring his hands together. With his fingers he sought out Marian's ribbon tied fast to his wrist. A new panic gripped him when he realized it was no longer there. Was a final touch of her magic to be denied him as well?

He felt a cry well up in his throat. Whether it would have been a sob, a scream or an indignant yell, he would never find out, because at that moment he landed. And again he felt fire. But it was different this time, familiar, and instead of smelling like burning flesh and despair, it smelled of orchids.

His limbs stiffened and groaned in protest when he tried to move quickly. He struggled and forced the issue pushing himself off the carpeted floor beneath him. He was home. It had to be home. It felt like home, even if he couldn't see past the wall of orange heat sucking all the air from room.

He staggered onto his feet and lunged through the flames to their source. He threw his weight forward and crashed against Marian. Solid and real and alive...and burning their house down. He saw only her amid the fire but it was all he needed to see. He didn't know how he was pulled from the Fade or even if it was her who did it. He didn't care.

"Marian!" He shouted and tried to shake her, but he still had only clumsy control of his body. Her small frame stumbled backwards, her magic still devouring their surroundings. The power of it was not only causing physical damage, however. Fenris could now feel the instability of it as it clawed wildly in all directions trying to destroy everything tangible within reach and tear open the Veil. He knew the shapeless barrier was already dangerously thin from their machinations thus far and the worst of it was that Fenris would swear he also smelled blood in the air. But again, Fenris didn't care.

He now shook her violently, at the same time reveling in the joy of feeling her body in his hands. "Marian! Stop! Now! Stop! Control yourself!"

Her eyes that were squeezed shut opened. The dark color of them had gone red with the heat of her magic. Her dark hair was plastered in sweaty tendrils around her face. Her lips were pursed tight holding in her breath.

Her fire still burned around them, but he spoke softly this time. "Marian, I'm here. Focus."

Finally, she did. The heat in her eyes cooled and the ebony darkness returned to them. Her mouth relaxed and she sucked in a large breath. The mageflame hissed out of existence, leaving behind what Fenris already knew would be there: An Archon, a beautiful slave, his sister and a little Dalish mage. The room was in smoking shambles. As there was still some semblance of structure around them, Fenris assumed, and hoped, that it was only this room that was damaged. The furniture was reduced to cinders, the walls had burned clean away in some spots and a ceiling beam shifted, cracked, then fell to the floor behind him in a clatter of splinters.

Marian blinked at the crash. Everyone remained silent. If Fenris had hoped for a relieved smile and a warm embrace then he was a fool. Marian took the time to slowly exhale and then she punched him in the chest.

Fenris coughed slightly, more surprised than injured, but the assault, if it could be called that, didn't stop there. More blows came at him, and though they were wild and undignified, he eventually had to back away and bring his arms up in defense.

That's when the yelling started.

"You stupid...Maker-damned...fool..." Each word was punctuated by another fist. He didn't fight back, obviously. Why fight the truth? He owed Marian her anger at least. "How dare you! How...dare...you...don't you ever...EVER...fucking...shit...Fuck!"

She stopped. He warily lowered his hands. She let out a sigh, and then her arms wrapped around him and she buried her face in his now bruised and battered chest. It was the sweetest pain he ever felt.

"I'm...sorry...?" He couldn't help but notice Varania and Merrill, both covered in soot and trying to stamp out any small remaining embers, roll their eyes at his attempt at appeasement. Fenris looked away from them and down at his hands where they had come up to cradle Marian. He noticed for the second time the absence of something very important from his wrist. And then he remembered he still smelled blood in the air. His eyes looked past the top of Marian's head and straight to Antonius.

The Archon was standing proudly. Renna was close behind him clutching the back of his robes. In one hand he held a small dagger. In the other he held Marian's ribbon, dripping with fresh blood. The man's lips curled into a slow smile.

"You're welcome." Antonius said calmly and sounding more self-congratulatory than anything.

Marian lifted her head and turned to look at the Archon. "You..." She said in almost a whisper, but she didn't need to finish the statement. She knew what brought Fenris back, just as well as Fenris did. It was their magic and his blood on the once innocent bit of silk. It was Antonius' magic and his blood. It was...wrong. It was nothing that either of them would have thought of or attempted. It was blood magic for personal gain. It was everything both of them despised and feared. And they were both more grateful than either of them would ever admit. 

So they admitted nothing and said not another word. Though, the way they pulled each other closer said enough.

Antonius tossed the dagger and the cloth to the floor and took up Renna's hand. She drew close to him affectionately. "We will be staying here until I am comfortable Renna is recovered." The woman looked to be the least affected of them all, but who was Fenris to argue with an Archon? "I will allow you to thank me in the morning." He turned and was about to leave the room through what remained of the door frame when he looked back over his shoulder at Fenris. His next words were an eerie echo of what Fenris had thought not moments ago. "You'll do well to remember Elf, death is nothing but defeat. There is no honor or dignity in it. And no matter what the cost, love is living for someone, not dying for them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even tell you how glad I am to be out of the Fade. This was a short little chapter, but after this I can finally, finally, get back to happy-fluffy-fun-in-love Fenris-Hawke stuff. Finally! Also, I'm dying to see what Varric's been up to, but it will have to wait until the next chapter. :)


	68. Time

Hawke sank slowly down to the floor and Fenris followed. Antonius left the smoldering remains of the room along with Renna. Merrill took Varania's hand and led her from the room as well. Both women offered Hawke a reassuring smile as they passed.

"He's probably going to take our bedroom, isn't he?" Hawke asked Fenris in a neutral voice. She didn't really care if Antonius displaced them from their bed for a night. She'd happily sleep outside as long as Fenris was next to her.

"Yes, he is." Fenris replied, with an equal lack of inflection. "Do you mind?"

"Not really, no."

"Neither do I."

She was sure they had more things they could discuss, should discuss, than their sleeping arrangements. But neither seemed keen on more words. Hawke leaned against Fenris. Her fiery display had left her chilled in its absence. He was warm and she pressed her ear against the lyrium on his neck, letting its music soothe her. His arms pulled her closer and they sat for a while, listening to the creaking and cracking of the damaged wood and steaming furniture.

Eventually, Fenris attempted to speak. "Marian, I..."

She didn't let him finish. Whatever it was, it could wait. They had time. All the time in the world. An infinite future lay before them. She decided she wanted to start it off on the right foot.

xxxx

There were actually several things, many things, Fenris had wanted to say. Things about gratitude and relief, worry and apologies, love and the future, but as always he was glad when she stopped him. Words would always fail him when he felt like this and in the end he and Marian were more suited to action than words. When she pressed her lips to his he felt his muscles relax. She sighed into his mouth as she pushed forward with slow movements, both eager and languid. His hands passed over every curve of her as she tasted him, his mouth, his skin, his lyrium. She took her time and so did he.

Gentle lips and fingertips turned to heated hands and limbs. The soft rustle of clothing on singed carpet was replaced by the rough caress of bare skin on bare floorboards, but little did they care. Clothing gave way to insistent pulling and Marian's supple body gave way to his insistent touch as his own fire started to burn inside him. He burned for her. His lyrium burned for her. There was no pain in it as it ignited in his skin and he knew somehow he would never feel the old pains again. New pains perhaps, different pains, but that was life and he would welcome it as long as it was by her side.

He rested his weight atop her and she squeezed him in her arms. He buried a smile into her naked shoulder. It spread across his face all on its own. He almost laughed when he slowly sheathed himself inside her. She did laugh, eyes wide open and smiling broadly. She rolled them around and sat atop him. When she leaned down to capture his lips he could feel the vibration of her laughter against his chest. She moved up and down and up and down. He watched her intently and fought to keep his eyes open against the amazing sensations of her body that wanted to force them closed so he might fully submit to them. He wanted to see her every movement as if some small part of him thought she could dissolve away at any moment. He held on fast to her waist and let the wavelike motions of her hips roll under his fingertips. It all seemed to go on forever. Her hands were still warm from the fire as she rested them on his abdomen and though there was hardly any magic left in them after her wild attack, they still sent ripples of energy all through his body making him feel more alive than he could ever remember feeling.

Before long her smiles and laughter gave way to rough panting breathes and concentrated effort. Beads of sweat ran down her slick skin and he abruptly sat up to lick them away. She tasted like salt and freedom. They were both moving quickly now, their bodies not quite able to hold back from seeking the crux of their passion despite their minds finally realizing there was no need to rush.

They crested together and held each other tight. Their climax went on and on and they shuddered against one another. As the heat of bliss slipped away, they collapsed back down, flat on the floor, soot covered and breathless. Marian exhaled in contentment and started to absently trace the patterns of his lyrium. He wished he could let his mind go blank and think only of her soothing touch against his brands. But the smell of the Fade still surrounded them and with it wafted thoughts of what his future might hold.

He shifted his weight and leaned over Marian. She looked up at him with another innocent smile and she tried to pull him back down. He resisted even though he didn't want to.

"Marian, we must talk. In the Fade..." He had started the sentence with such purpose and then in the next instant it drifted away from him. He struggled to find coherent words to use. How to ask the question without revealing the strange conglomeration of fear and hope that lay behind it? His hand moved to her body and he traced the faded scar beneath her breasts, acquired in another lifetime where he had not existed for her. He mirrored the way she traced his markings, trying to put her own mark on his scars acquired in another lifetime where she had not existed for him. His fingers moved lower, just beneath the scar, into the small dip of her waist and stopped.

"Marian are you...Is it possible that..."

She covered his hand with hers, lifted it and brought it to her lips. She kissed his palm and then playfully sucked on one of his fingers before she placed it back over top of her scar. She never lost her smile, but it softened a little and took on a distant quality.

"Fenris, love, I honestly don't know. I might be. I might not. It's too soon to know anything in any case. Its possible a more astute mage than me would be able to tell. But for once in my life, I'm glad to have something that magic doesn't seem to be intruding upon or forcing me to know before I'm ready." When she tried to push him back down again he let her and she curled up at his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to just wait and see. We'll find out just like every other normal couple does. After all, we have the time."

Time, to Fenris, had always been simply another enemy to either fight or surrender to. Too much time stretching out before him trapped as a slave, not enough time to get away on the run and then his time with Marian that until now he always considered to be too good to expect to last. Until now. Now, as he held her, the time that stretched out before him, and all the possibilities it held was welcome.

He didn't answer her. Of course it was alright with him. He suddenly didn't need to know so urgently. They would wait and see and perhaps pretend to be a 'normal couple'. Although, he mused, she had told him once that if they were normal, they'd be dead by now. It struck him that for the first time he wasn't bothered by the fact that he wasn't normal. He was fine with it actually. He wasn't sure if that meant he was happy, but he knew he had the time to figure it out.


	69. Compromise

Neither Hawke nor Fenris slept. They had had enough of dreams for the time being. They found enough rest simply lying in each other's arms on the floor of the ruined room. No one came looking for them, but eventually, as dawn began to crack the sky, they heard raised voices coming from downstairs. Or rather one raised voice. And Hawke thought she could hear the silent cowering of several others.

She pushed herself off Fenris's chest, groaning at the stiffness in her muscles from resting too long on the floor. She grinned at her own discomfort. She had spent more than her fair share of nights sleeping rough, but it seemed Tevinter opulence was softening her. Making love on a hard floor wasn't what it used to be. She'd take her elf anyway she could get him, but perhaps she would have to admit to preferring a soft bed in the future.

Fenris didn't seem as affected and rose with his typical swift grace, a soft cracking sound in his knees the only sign belying his own discomfort. He dressed quickly and Hawke mourned the sight of his body being covered. Time enough for more later, she supposed.

"Antonius will want a detailed accounting of what has been going on here while we were in the Fade." Fenris handed her her clothes as he spoke, but he too seemed reluctant to see her don them.

"How long could we possibly have been gone? I doubt anyone even noticed anything was amiss. Varric probably made sure no one at the Archon's mansion had cause to ask any questions. I'm certain he held down the fort just fine, so to speak, and Antonius and Renna can slip quietly back into their own bed.

Fenris scoffed. "When, exactly, is reality going to finally penetrate that thick head of yours? There is nothing that goes unnoticed in Minrathous. Depending on how long we were gone he'll be lucky if he is still the Archon. There have been coups in the past that took only a matter of hours."

Hawke propped a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. This was just too good an opportunity. "Care to make a bet?"

A slow pained sigh escaped Fenris. He had already turned and was about to leave the room. He hung his head back and spoke to the ceiling in a strained sort of tone. "On what?"

"On whether or not Varric managed to maintain the order of things."

Another sigh.

"Oh come on. You're richer than me, you can afford it" she goaded.

He turned back toward her and came in close. His words were soft and serious. "Everything I have is already yours." He said solemnly and his eyes told Hawke he meant nothing about money. "However..."

Well that was a quick change. His solemn eyes turned devious. "If I win, you will agree to do everything I say for an entire day with no complaints or protests."

She considered his offer carefully. That could be fun. "And vice versa?"

He narrowed his gaze suspiciously. "Within reason." 

"Done." And they shook on it. But when Fenris released her hand and smirked as he left the room, she suddenly didn't feel quite so confident about their little wager.

xxxx

"Three days?"

Well that answered one question. Antoinus bellowed it again. "Three days!"

Hawke followed Fenris down the stairs to find the Archon standing in the main hall, looming over Dareth who was down on one knee, head bowed and trembling. Merrill and Varania were present also, a few steps away, both standing but looking understandably nervous.

Fenris looked over at Varania. "We were in the Fade that long?"

"Three nights and three days." His sister responded succinctly and then she elaborated. "On the first day, we thought we were going to lose you, Brother. On the second it was Hawke who seemed in peril. On the third, all of you were all but lost to us. It took everything Merrill had to hold open the Veil, and even then, if Hawke hadn't also been holding it open from the other side..."

Hawke was glad Varania didn't finish. She didn't need reminded of what could have happened. It was enough that they were all safe in the here and now. Unless Antonius tried to murder them all where they stood.

Fortunately, Fenris took on the responsibility of keeping them alive this time. "Excellency, please." Fenris held one hand out in supplication to Antonius and the other he used to help Dareth to his feet. To his steward he said, "Tell us quickly what has transpired outside these walls while we were gone."

"M...Mes...Messere Varric..." The poor young elf was standing now, but still cowering. All the in-roads Fenris had made treating the man as an equal seemed to disappear in the face of an Archon's ire. "He's been very busy managing his Excellency's estate but I am not privy to the details. He has only told people that the Archon is occupied with important business."

Antonius lifted his arm as if to strike the man. Fenris stepped between them and Hawke boldly grabbed the Archon's arm.

"Now, now Excellency." She scolded. "We're all in this together, remember?" Hawke held her breath waiting for his reaction. She noticed everyone else was holding their breath as well. She thought Dareth's heart might have also stopped for a moment. Antonius had nothing over her now, having spent her blood in the Fade, but that didn't mean she wanted to make an enemy of him. But he would have to understand that moving forward, their interactions would have to be based on cooperation if they were going to build the futures they all wanted. "The ability to compromise is paramount in an effective leader, yes?"

Antonius looked her in the eye, then lowered his hand. He spoke through clenched teeth. "If your dwarf has caused any damage whatsoever to my estate or to my empire, there will be nothing you can do to stay my hand."

Hawke could tell that Fenris was starting to hope he lost their little bet. He turned back to Dareth. "Has there been any talk of anything among the other magisters?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, Master. A few idle comments wondering what business has the Archon occupied, but nothing more than passing curiosity." Fenris winced slightly at being addressed thusly but decided to save correcting his steward for later.

Antonius did not seem convinced by the reassurance that no one was openly plotting his death. Fenris tried to soothe him. "This man belonged to Danarius, Excellency. He would know well what to listen for. If he says there are no threatening rumors about, then there aren't any."

Antoinus started giving orders. "The two of you," he pointed at Hawke and Fenris, "will accompany me to my estate so that I can relieve the dwarf of his duty." Hawke thought it sounded like he meant to say 'relieve the dwarf of his head.' "We will take the catacomb passages." He then spoke to Varania and Merrill. "Renna is upstairs. I have asked her to remain here in your care until I am satisfied it is safe to send for her."

Hawke was unable to help mumbling under her breath with a huff, "Asked or ordered?"

Fenris gave her a withering glare and she was shocked when he actually admonished her aloud. "Marian, this is not the time" he growled, and he started leading Antonius towards the cellars.

"M..master, wait." Dareth exclaimed. Both Fenris and Antonius turned back around. "Messere Varric isn't at the estate right now..." He hesitated, clearly not wanting to finish the statement. In a very small voice, that Hawke had to strain to hear, he finished. "He's at the senate."

"He's where?" Fenris and Antonius spoke simultaneously and wore matching looks of horror. Truth be told, not even Hawke was expecting that little twist. Dareth shrunk back, having nothing left to say. The other two men resumed their walk to the cellars, but just a bit more quickly this time.

Hawke had no choice but to follow silently behind.

xxxx

Fenris pushed at the stubborn door until it gave way. He stepped into the Archon's nondescript office inside the Senate building. Though he had only seen this place once before, he was surprised he hadn't noticed the secret entrance. Antonius followed closely behind him and after a few minutes Marian also exited the catacomb passages.

She swept dust away from her shoulders and pulled a cobweb from her hair. She looked annoyed. The Archon looked annoyed and angry. Ferris simply wanted them all to live through another day. Antonius took the lead and strode with heavy steps out of his office. For a moment Marian looked as if she wasn't going to follow, so Fenris grabbed her by the hand and hurried after the Archon.

There were two templars in the hallway. They both snapped to attention at the sight of their ruler, but neither so much as blinked at his sudden appearance or his strange entourage. The building seemed thankfully empty as they made their way to the main rotunda. When they were outside the doors, Fenris heard whistling echoing from inside. He saw Antonius tense and clench his fists, the knuckles on them turning white. When Marian let out a soft chuckle behind them, Fenris squeezed her hand to silence her. She coughed over the laughter in a pathetic attempt to conceal it. Antonius flung open the doors and marched inside.

The large hall was empty, save for one dwarf. Varric was seated in the chair typically reserved for the Archon. He was lazily leaned back, hands clasped behind his head and though Fenris was certain he heard them enter, he kept whistling as if he hadn't.

When the three of them approached, Fenris noticed that the floor in front of Varric was cleared away and on it lay at least a dozen Qunari swords. There were several different types, all with varying degrees of wear. A few seemed clean enough, but most appeared to have old blood streaked on the blades or soaked into the hilts. Eventually, Varric stopped his idle whistling and smiled at them in greeting, but he didn't rise from the Archon's seat.

Fortunately for the dwarf, Antonius slowed his approach and studied the weapons on the ground in amazement. Ferris had been shocked when he discovered the Arishok's blade in the possession of Marian. To see so many Qunari swords separated from their warriors did not even seem to be within the realm of believability. But there they sat. Even Marian looked surprised.

After the three of them gawked for several long moments, Varric abruptly sat up, clapped his hands together and said, "Okay, kids, here's the story..."

xxxx

Hawke took a seat, now totally captivated by how this morning was turning out. She smiled eagerly. She loved a good story. Fenris and Antonius remained standing, their eyes going back and forth between glaring at Varric and staring at the Qunari swords on the floor.

Varric waved one arm dramatically in the air as he started, "It was a dark and stormy night..."

Fenris cut him off. "How far do you wish to test that luck of yours, dwarf?" He said menacingly. Antonius folded his arms across his chest and took a threatening step forward.

"Fine, fine," Varric waved the silent threats away, "but you would have enjoyed it more if you had let me set the scene. So, here's what we're going to tell people. The dastardly Qunari concocted a plan to assassinate the Archon and several other prominent members of the Magisterium, thus throwing the Empire into chaos making it ripe for an invasion. Fortunately for the wise and powerful ruler, he had in his service a beautiful and unassuming slave girl who uncovered the plot by discovering several Ben-Hassrath spies disguised as slaves in the Archon's household. In a valiant effort to protect the citizens in his charge, his Excellency," Varric then gestured to Fenris, "and his loyal Deathdealer..."

Hawke interrupted, with a little pout, "Hey!"

Varric rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes...his Excellency, his loyal Deathdealer, and Hawke, in an effort to protect and serve, blah, blah, blah, and before it was too late, managed to find the secret lair of the conspirators and, in the dead of night, succeeded in killing the would-be murderous warriors sent by the Qun." At which point Varric waved his arm broadly over the Qunari swords. "And to the victors go the spoils. Long live the Imperium." With equal flourish, the dwarf took a bow.

When he rose, the storyteller had disappeared and he was all business. He reached over to a small table beside him and shuffled through several official looking pieces of parchment. "Now, we have several small details to finalize, if it pleases his Excellency." Varric threw out wry smile and wink in Hawke's direction as he presented the Archon with the documents. "Here we have emancipation papers for your girl, Renna, for the vital part she played in uncovering the plot against her beloved Master's life," Varric shuffled through the documents again shoving them into Antonius' hands, "and here we have the decree appointing Fenris as your new Executor."

Hawke abruptly choked on her own saliva. Parchment fluttered out of the Archon's hands and fell to the marble floor. Fenris's lyrium went alight.

It was Fenris who recovered from shock enough to speak first. His fists were clenched and Hawke could tell he was holding back some mighty dark magic. "Varric, damn it! This is no joke! You have no idea the dangerous games you play!"

After a few more sputtering coughs, Hawke was finally able to contribute her opinion. "Now let's consider this seriously, gentleman. Fenris, in the eyes of the average imperial observer, you've already helped smite the Archon's enemies quite effectively before. Why wouldn't such a 'wise and powerful' ruler choose to give the currently vacant position of Executor to the man who has efficiently, and ruthlessly I might add, helped keep peace and order in this fair land?" Hawke considered her little speech was possibly a bit over done, but really, next to Varric's tall tale, she felt it could pass for logical.

"Marian, be serious!" Fenris turned his incredulous visage toward her, his voice bouncing off the walls of the rotunda. "This is Tevinter. Commoners, let alone former slaves, do not rise above their station. This is not the Free Marches and this is not Fereldon. There are no 'people's champions' here! There are no 'bastard kings' here!"

As soon as he said it, he realized his tactless misstep and his gaze slid over to fall on Antonius, who was expressionless and silent. "Excellency, I did not mean to..."

Antonius spoke with ice in his voice and stone behind his eyes. "I am a bastard king. And you are a Liberati, who is now my Executor." He snatched the papers back from Varric who had gathered them up off the floor. Varric was also ready with a quill and the Archon's seal. Antonius took his seat back and commenced putting his signature and seal on every parchment placed before him. He didn't look up when he addressed Varric curtly. "I assume one of these documents details payment for your service, dwarf?"

"Just a small stipend, Excellency, you won't even notice it's gone."

Antonius raised one eyebrow skeptically, but kept signing. "Fenris will need to undergo his harrowing, and we will need to call an urgent session of the Senate to present the 'spoils' as you call them, along with the story. He nodded his head at the swords still decorating the floor.

Varric produced yet more papers. "Worry not, Excellency, everything is already taken care of."

Hawke's curiosity overcame her. "Varric, where did you get so many Qunari swords anyway."

"Rivaini and I scavenged them from around Kirkwall after what remained of the Arishok's crew left. Actually, one of them stayed behind and asked that we return them all to the Qun. That didn't go over too well with us after everything that happened so we...uh...took care of him and kept the swords. I knew they'd come in handy at some point."

Hawke then turned to Fenris, who was standing still as stone and looking decidedly dumbfounded. He was barely able to whisper out, "Excellency, I..."

"Silence, Elf, it is done and I find it an acceptable compromise." He sneered the last word at Hawke. She stuck out her tongue at him but he didn't see. He was looking up at Fenris. "From this day forward you will protect me and my family," he looked back down and said softly, "and I will protect you, and yours."

And just like that, Fenris lost their bet.


	70. Contentment

"I did not lose."

Hawke huffed and threw her arms up in the air, totally exasperated. "You are the worst kind of sore loser! You won't even admit you lost!"

"That is because I did not lose."

Fenris's calm certainty was so irritating she was almost getting angry. For the better part of two weeks now, she had been trying, fruitlessly, to convince Fenris that she had, in fact, won their little bet. She wanted to collect her winnings. She wasn't going to make him do anything odd or out of sorts. Although it was likely he would consider lying abed for a whole day out of sorts, but that was all she really wanted.

Hawke stared at the ceiling above their bed as they lay in the dark, side by side. Fenris had been exceedingly busy since assuming his new role and that left them little time to live the life of idle nobility; something Hawke actually found herself looking forward to, now that she had someone to share the idle days with. But she wasn't about to begrudge Fenris the fulfillment of being gainfully employed. It seemed to suit him, having the responsibility of a powerful position. He had an air of confidence and danger about him that Hawke found incredibly sexy. Not that they had had much time to indulge recently. Hence, her insistence on calling in her winnings, so she could demand an uninterrupted day of leisure with her now very prominent elf.

Though, 'prominent' was likely not the word being used to describe him on the streets these days. 'Infamous', maybe, or perhaps 'notorious' were the more likely adjectives associated with his name.

Varric's story had been met with silent acceptance in the senate, laced with not a small amount of fear. It was obvious the Magisters knew something was off, but when presented with a dozen Qunari swords, and a lyrium-branded assassin dripping with barely controlled entropy, none of them were stupid enough to call the Archon's bluff. Especially when said Archon seemed to command both the total loyalty of his new Executor and the ability to toss peril off his back like water running down a cliff face.

Hawke wondered how long the safety of intimidation would last. She wasn't at all worried, however, about their time eventually running out. She realized that when the scheming and plotting inevitably started up again, she was comfortable letting Antonius and Fenris deal with things. It was relaxing not bearing the weight of the world on her shoulders anymore and letting someone else take charge for a change. Of course she'd be there to help. She couldn't let the boys have all the fun after all, but it was nice not having to be responsible for everything and it was nice to feel settled.

This was her home now. This was her life and after so many long years of either running or fighting like a mad dog on the defensive, it felt so good to just relax. Now, if only she could get Fenris to join her.

Hawke propped herself up on her elbows and turned towards him. "Why are you being so stubborn? I'm not going to ask you to do anything strange. Well...nothing strange that you wouldn't enjoy too. Promise." The light of the moons gave her grin a mischievous slant. "Antonius can do without you for a day. Doesn't he have his own lover he can dote on for a little while? The empire isn't going to collapse out from under him just because the two of you take a day off."

Fenris shifted his eyes over to her. "I am not being stubborn. I'm being right. I did not lose. Our bet was whether or not the dwarf had maintained the order of things. He 'maintained' nothing. What he did was manipulate change, and drastic change at that. The fact that it worked to our benefit is irrelevant. It was still a change. Therefore, you lost. I won." And just to twist the blade, he added, "And Varric and Isabela agree with me."

Traitors! She should have known better. She was getting soft. Of course that bastard dwarf and shifty pirate would be in on this. She should have seen it coming. "So, that's how it is then? A conspiracy? Since when do you trust Isabela's opinion, by the way?"

"Since she's right."

Hawke lay back down with a sigh and considered her position. Did she really care if she lost? Hadn't she agreed to the stakes of this bet in the first place because she was curious about what Fenris would do with his winnings? Why not surrender? She was learning to let go and be free in many aspects of her life. Why not stick with that path and have a bit of fun at the same time? What was the worst he could do?

Of course the moment she asked herself that question, it occurred to her that he might consider something like ordering her not to speak for a day. Well, there were ways to get around that, and it would be fun trying at least. She could write everything down again like when she was teaching him how to read, or she could sing everything. Anyway, whatever he asked of her, even if it didn't seem like she would enjoy it, she could find a way to entertain herself with it, especially if she got Fenris flustered in the process.

"Alright, fine. You win. Tomorrow, I'm yours."

A low and satisfied chuckle was all she got in reply.

xxxx

Fenris woke before dawn. Truthfully, he hadn't really slept. He laid awake most of night watching Marian. He watched her eyes drift shut. He watched her chest rise and fall gently with each breath she took. He watched her shift and roll beneath the sheets. A few times he placed his hand on her, just to feel her skin. For a long while he rested his head against her hair where it spilled over onto his pillow, just to smell it. There was something inside him that ached and swelled the more time he spent taking her in. It was like a low drum beat, thumping steadily with his heart. More often than not he felt this recently. Especially around Marian, but most other times as well; somewhere in the background wherever he went and whatever he did and sometimes he just let the feeling carry him along. He thought maybe it might be his magic maturing or somehow settling inside him since his harrowing, but it didn't quite feel like that was it.

Fenris rose from bed, leaving Marian to sleep. He did, however, open the windows so that when the first bright rays of the Tevinter sun broke the horizon they would shine right on her and wake her up. This was his day after all. His first demand of her would be to wake up early for a change.

He moved over to the table where he had deposited his clothes and other things when he arrived back home late last night. Antonius had been keeping him busy to say the least, but he found the work fulfilling. The position of Executor did not require appointment to the Magisterium, which Fenris was all too eager to avoid. In fact Antonius did not require Fenris to have very much direct public contact at all, which also suited Fenris just fine. What Fenris was more than happy to do was police the Magisters in the name of the Archon, which exactly met his job description.

Even without his demon-assisted foresight, Antonius was a thorough and intuitive leader. He studied every angle and considered every possibility. He was even more adept at politics than he was at combat, now that Fenris had seen him practice both first hand. He only required someone to extend his reach, which Fenris was more than capable of. It seemed intimidation was something Fenris naturally excelled at and he had had no troubles thus far manipulating the Magisters into falling in line behind their Archon, and making sure they stayed there. In fact, he had to admit to himself that he was enjoying it immensely.

The only problem was, he had spent much less time with Marian these past weeks than he had grown accustomed to. Today that would be remedied. The Archon had no need of him today as Marian was ultimately correct, Antonius had planned to spend the day with Renna, which left Fenris to do the same. That Marian had finally conceded his win last night was simply a bonus.

Fenris tossed aside his clothes and a few parchment scrolls and found a package that held what he was looking for. He had seen Varric and Isabela yesterday when he was at the east docks on business and the two did agree with him that he had won the bet. To that effect, Isabela had given him something with which he could start out the day on the right foot. He wouldn't have thought of it himself, and at first he simply scoffed at the pirate, but upon further consideration he decided to go with it.

He unwrapped the package and set out the contents for Marian. They were clothes for her to wear. Isabela's clothes. And there wasn't very much of them. He smiled to himself just as the sun started peaking through the window.

Marian groaned and sat up. "Why are the shutters open?" She said in a raspy sleep-filled voice.

"I shouldn't have to remind you that you conceded victory to me. This is my day. Now get up." Fenris made sure to put a good deal of forceful seriousness behind his command, even though he was grinning from ear to ear.

He could almost hear Marian roll her eyes, but she obeyed without question and rose. She was stark naked, and for a very long moment he considered dispensing with Isabela's clothes altogether and just keeping her up here in their bedroom bare-skinned all day, but that would spoil the other things he wanted to do, so he stuck with his original plan. "Put these clothes on." He gestured at the tiny bits of cloth that would pass for her attire today. "We have things to do."

Marian walked over to the garments, then looked up at him suspiciously. "Isabela put you up to this."

"She simply gave me the idea and provided me with supplies. All that should matter to you is that I'm the one now asking you to wear them. I won't ask again."

He didn't need to because she dressed without another objection. She went about it slowly, in his full view, twisting this way and bending that way until again he questioned why he was bothering with clothes in the first place. The finished product was worth it, however, and he looked on in satisfaction as she finished and made a show of spinning around for him to observe her completed appearance. She started to pull up her hair and he stopped her. "Leave it down today." He ordered, his voice a bit husky. He coughed to cover it up and she giggled under her breath.

They went downstairs and Marian drew more than a few curious glances from the servants, all now freed and all having chosen to stay employed in the household. Considering her typical attire leaned more towards 'roguish mercenary' and this morning she was decidedly more 'whorish pirate' he didn't blame them for staring.

Breakfast was uneventful. Varania and Merrill joined them. Varania had raised an eyebrow at Marian's appearance, but Merrill didn't miss a step commenting only that she 'looked lovely in Isabela's clothes'. The two woman had largely taken over running the household, spending time educating the servants with reading lessons, helping Orana see to the day-to-day management of things and helping Fenris's steward when needed or when Fenris was unavailable. It was strange how easy it was getting for Fenris to just relax here, in his home, among what he could now acknowledge passed for his family, odd as it may all seem to an outsider.

When they were finished eating, Fenris announced that he and Marian were going out. "Where are we going?" Marian asked a little wide-eyed at the prospect of walking the streets in broad daylight dressed like she was.

"I don't know yet. We're just going out." His list of plans for the day didn't include a destination for their outing, just that they go out, so that was what they were going to do. To Marian's credit, she followed him without hesitation. Two things accomplished and the day had barely started yet. He was on track to get everything he wanted out of this day. He smiled to himself again as they left the mansion and he couldn't help but feel the pleasant ache of the soft and steady thumping inside his chest grow a little.

xxxx

Hawke was more intrigued than anything. She hated to admit to herself that Isabela's clothes actually weren't half bad. They made her feel sexy and she noticed herself walking with a sultry swagger that pushed all her curves out even more than they already were. All these years she had resisted Isabela trying to get her to dress like this and damned if she wasn't actually enjoying it now. But that wasn't the half of it. What really surprised her was how Fenris was acting. He was telling the truth when he said he didn't have a plan for where they were going. They wandered the market stalls in the high-class district. They shopped for weapons and Fenris bought her a new set of daggers. They stopped and ate apples in front of the Senate building.

All the while Fenris, held her. He held her hand or wrapped his arm around her waist or her shoulders and sometimes he would draw her close so that she hung on his arm as they walked. There was scarcely a moment when he wasn't touching her. If she had to call it anything she would have though he was showing her off. Whatever it was, it was a far cry from the days she remembered him stalking silently behind her, a tense ball of wound-up lyrium and anger. Funnily enough it had a similar effect on the crowds. It was obvious when someone recognized Fenris, either by direct association or rumor alone. Those people avoided eye contact and simply parted letting him pass unhindered. Others who had not yet heard of the Archon's new lyrium-branded Executor still let him pass, but they stared longer, fascinated by the sight of an elf with both sword and magic at his fingertips, his arms around a human Magister (even if she was dressed like a pirate whore) and his head held high.

Eventually they made their way to the docks. Isabela was readying her ship to set sail and Varric was supervising the loading of cargo onto it.

Varric hadn't told them what it was he got out of the Archon as payment, but it must have been something substantially lucrative enough to make him decide to stick around Tevinter for a little while at least. Isabela couldn't be convinced to put down roots on dry land, but one of Varric's new business dealings assured she would at least be docking here regularly as she now had a contract with the dwarf to carry goods between here and Starkhaven.

"Victory is sweet isn't it, Elf?" Varric saw them approach and shouted out to Fenris. Hawke stuck out her tongue at her friend but he just chuckled.

Fenris was all business, despite the fact that his arm was still resting casually on Hawke's nearly bare hip. "The Archon expects the amended contracts with the Merchant's Guild by next week. I'd rather not have to threaten a friend, Varric."

"Yes, yes," Varric waved him off. "I'll get the stubborn nugs over at the Guild in line, don't worry about a thing." By then Isabela had notice they were there and joined them. She change the subject of conversation back.

"I knew she'd look good. I'm always right." She winked at Fenris. "I'll expect a proper 'thank you' when I return."

Fenris growled a little, but it almost sounded friendly. "Just try not to damage the trade deals with Prince Sebastian while you're in Starkhaven, or I'll have good reason not to allow you to return here. And I can assure you a 'thank you' will be the furthest thing from my mind should that happen."

Unfazed, Isabela embraced Hawke and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, before giving Fenris another saucy wink, then returning to her ship. Soon after, Varric's attention was taken by one of the crew asking questions. He waved a quick goodbye and Fenris led her back towards home.

For the rest of the day, Fenris had only innocent, but strange, requests of her. He asked her to read to him from one of Varric's novels, while he nursed a bottle of wine. He asked her to tell him about her parents and her family, whatever simple little stories she hadn't yet shared with him. When night fell, they settled down in front of the fire in their bedroom and he asked her to trace his lyrium with her fingers as she often did anyway. After that he asked her to sing to him, which she did, stroking his hair as he lay his head in her lap.

When she finished, he asked if she would make love to him, an odd request simply because it need not be a request at all, but again she readily and happily obeyed. She relaxed underneath him and they moved together. They breathed together. As she nuzzled against his neck she felt the pulse there, throbbing in time with her own as their hearts beat together. They crested together and stilled together and as they lay together, he asked something else of her.

"I want you to marry me."

xxxx

Fenris waited patiently for her to respond. She had done everything he asked of her, just as he expected. There was a small part of him, an older part of him, whispering inside his head that perhaps this was the limit of her acquiescence; that perhaps he had taken a childish game too seriously and too far. That perhaps he didn't deserve this. Amazingly, though, it was only a very small part of him; a part that seemed distant and almost unfamiliar. In truth, he had no doubts. This was what he wanted and the new steadily beating rhythm inside him drowned out the fearful whispers. Marian was his. This life with her was his. This freedom was his and this is what he wanted to do with it.

"Did you really believe you had to save that up for today?" She asked him.

"No. It just seemed to make sense." And it did make sense to him. It all finally made sense to him.

"I want to marry you too."

"I know."

She laughed. "You don't have to sound so smug about it."

It was nearly midnight. There was one last thing he wanted from her.

"Marian..." This time he hesitated, but strangely, it wasn't doubt that made him hesitate. It was certainty. "I want you to tell me you're pregnant."

They hadn't spoken of it since they returned from the Fade. But as each day passed, Fenris knew they had both been feeling something different between them. Some new kind of magic, small and quiet. He wasn't sure if this was how every other man and woman came to learn of the life they had created together, but it somehow felt right and this too made sense to him.

Marian sat up and leaned over him, a broad smile on her face. She took his hand and rested it over her belly. Over their child. "I suppose I have no choice but to obey."

The thumping ache inside him grew louder, deeper and it made him feel...full, and it was then he finally knew what it was. It was magic of a sort, but nothing fueled by mana or lyrium or love or hate. It was contentment. And he was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long A/N: Well...this is the last chapter. I don't quite know how to feel about it. Kind of happy and sad. I always intended to finish this story. I didn't think it would take me 10 months and 70 chapters, but it turned out longer than I expected. I stalked fanfic for a long time before I committed to actually writing something. I just wanted to have some fun and write something I would want to read. I never expected anyone else to read it too, so I can't tell you how happy it has always made me to know that others were enjoying the story along with me as it formed. For everyone who has commented, thank you from the bottom of my heart. For anyone who has been reading but hasn't commented yet, I'd love to hear from you about any chapter or anything at all that you've liked or disliked. I've never had a beta, so I take responsibility for all the little mistakes and all the little weird plot choices, good or bad.
> 
> I love this OTP. Probably one of my favorite fictional pairings of all time. I still have a few extra vignettes half written that I'll eventually post up about the Hawke and Fenris in this story. I have trouble letting go, so I may just keep writing for them as the mood strikes me. I actually love reading epilogues or side stories or sequels to fanfics I've become attached to. So I will happily take any and all requests if anyone has a scene or scenario they might have wanted to see with these two.
> 
> I'm not entirely sold on DA:I yet, but we'll see how my romance with Cullen plays out. I've always had a soft spot for him. Who knows, maybe he'll win me over, like how Fenris got me over Alistair, but right now, I doubt it. ;)
> 
> Thank you all again for reading. I hope to hear from you, and I hope to keep writing.
> 
> With Love, RHR.


	71. Epilogue-Joining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist writing a couple more bits and pieces. There's another epilogue chapter after this one that I'm almost done with. Cullen is taking over my head right now (Who knew? I wasn't expecting it but I'm head over heels for him now), but I'm finding it hard to write for him. Fenris seems to come much easier. No pun intended. And Fenris will always be my favorite! This chapter follows immediately after the end of chapter 70. Thank you for reading and to those who celebrate, Merry Christmas!

Fenris dragged her from bed that very moment and practically threw her clothes at her while stumbling about in the dark to find his own. "Get dressed." He ordered.

"What? Why?" She tried to pull him back into bed. "We should be celebrating..." She crooned suggestively.

He kissed her quickly almost missing her mouth in his apparent urgency. "We can celebrate after." In two blinks he had gotten dressed and was now looking at her impatiently waiting for her do do the same.

"After what?" Hawke demanded as she reluctantly pulled her clothes on.

"After we're married. Now let's go." He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him.

"Maker! Fenris it's midnight! I already said yes," and she added with laughter in her voice, "I'm not going to change my mind, I promise. You have already laid your claim afterall." She yanked back at him and got him to stop in the hallyway. She pointed to her, as yet, flat midsection, that wouldn't be so for very much longer.

"Exactly so." Fenris declared, with a hint of what Hawke thought might be male ego. "I see no reason to delay. Besides," he added suspiciously, "With you, there is no garauntee that some new kind of chaos won't befall us before we get the chance to be joined if we wait. With your abysmal luck, I wouldn't be surprised if great rifts started opening up in the sky letting demons spew forth putting all the world in danger and preventing me from officially making you mine." He growled the last bit possessively and dragged her back into following him. "We do this now!"

Well, she couldnt argue with that logic.

They practically ran through the dark streets of Minrathous. They passed a few late night stragglers, all likely too absorbed in their own clandestine activities to notice an elf pulling a woman behind him like a kidnapping victim.

He seemed to have a specific destination in mind so Hawke just went with it. Along the way she realized she actually had no idea how weddings were conducted in the Imperium. Were they going to see the Black Divine to be married in the Tevinter Chantry? Was there going to be some ritual involving blood and a fertility demon? Perhaps she should have captured a dragon to give to Fenris as her dowery? From everyting she had learned about her new home to date, she could assume that marriages here in general were no more than thinly veiled attempts at lasting political alliances. As long as any alliance could last here, she supposed.

Well this alliance would be different. She wouldn't see herself parted from Fenris. Ever. And he clearly felt the same if he was willing to legally bind himself to her in the middle of the night on a whim.

No. Not on a whim. She knew better than anyone the road he had travelled to get here; to feel for her what he did, to allow himself to feel it. She could only hope she would continue to prove herself worthy of him. Of course he wouldn't think of it that way, which made it all the more important to her.

Fenris finally stopped. hawke looked up to find them standing at the door of a very nice home. Not oppulent, but neither was it shabby. Fenris pounded on it impatiently, as if he expected everyone should be awake at this hour.

He knocked continuously until the door was opened a small crack and a tired and wary looking elf poked half his head through and adressed them. He was obviously both annoyed and suspicious. "Wh..who are you?" He stammered. "And what do you want?"

"The Archon's Executor and Magister Hawke." Fenris answered. "And we want you fetch your master and bring him to us. Now." Hawke smiled in the darkness. Fenris was certainly getting comfortable with his position and the authority it granted him. A long way to come for a former slave.

The elf's eyes went wide and the door opened for them. Ferris didn't wait for an invitation. He walked in as if he owned the place. Hawke watched the elf hurry upstairs to do Fenris's bidding as she followed her betrothed into a sitting room. He sat, looking quite comfortable. She remained standing.

"Fenris, where are we?" Hawks decided to see how far she could get with the most obvious question.

"This is the home of the judge responsible for matters of estate, including marriage. I...met him on business several days ago."

"You 'met' him? Why does 'met' sound suspiciously like 'threatened'?"

Fenris chose to answer a different question. "Antonius needed papers drawn up in preparation to make his son with Renna his legitimate heir upon his birth. I was able to...work with this judge to settle the matter."

"MmHm." Hawke replied skeptically. "The high and mighty Archon could just marry her instead of sending you to manipulate secret legitimacy."

Fenris rolled his eyes. "The world does not change overnight Marian. It is the best that can be done for the time being." His deep voice softened. "If it makes you feel better, I have no doubt that things will change in the future, even if that change comes slowly."

She could do nothing but smile at that. Her angsty elf had certainly changed, and for the better as well. As much as she loved him when he was a tangled up ball of hate she loved him even more now that he was finding ways to untangle himself.

Hawke turned when she heard hurried footsteps. An older gentleman entered the room, trying to look official while simultaneously looking rumpled from bed. She sensed he wanted to be annoyed but didn't dare show it.

He cleared his throat. Whether it was truly dry or whether he was trying to calm his nerves she couldn't tell.

"Executor. Magister." The man greeted them. "What could possibly bring you here, to my home," he said pointedly, "at this hour?"

Fenris stood. "We wish to be married. Now." He spoke as if it was an exceedingly normal request. Well, more of a demand, Hawke mused, when she considered her soon to be husband's tone.

The Judge's jaw went a bit slack. His eye moved from Fenris to Hawke. She smiled widely and shrugged her shoulders. "We're very eager, you see." She offered as explaination.

The man still seemed unable to respond. Fenris felt the need to nudge him. "Is there some kind of problem?" Hawke swore he let his lyrium flare on purpose.

The Judge backed away a step. "No! Of course not! Why would there be a problem? I'm happy to make such an..." he chose his words carefully, "advantagous union." Then he added. "And to be of service to those the Archon holds in high esteem."

It was Hawke's turn to roll her eyes. These Tevinters never let an opportunity to curry favor pass them by. She watched as he hurried over to a small desk and pulled out a quill and parchment. He didn't bother to sit, simply leaned over and scribbled furiously. When he had filled two full pages, he set down the quill, then gestured for Fenris to come forward. Fenris signed his name on the parchment and offered Hawke the quill so she could do the same. She signed right below Fenris. The Judge took the parchment and sealed it. Hawke felt some kind of magic move through his hands as he did it and the seal he placed shimmered for a brief moment before reverting back to it's commonplace appearance.

"I'll go immediately to file this in the vaults and add your joining to the official record at the courts." The man bowed his head slightly. "Congratulations."

Fenris nodded back. "Thank you for seeing to our needs. We'll let ourselves out."

Hawke was too dumbfounded to speak. She let Fenris take her hand and lead her outside. When they were underneath the bright moons once again she stopped him. "That's it?!" She demanded incredulously.

"What were you expecting? A demon summoning?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Something. Anything more exciting than...that!" For a country full of scheming blood mages and dangerous political intrigue around every corner, Hawke was amazed at the shocking level of boring this place managed to achieve sometimes.

"That is how it is done here. Albeit, lavish parties typically follow after the formalities." Fenris pulled her into an embrace. "If it is very important to you we can celebrate however you like. We could even travel south and be married in your Chantry if you desire. Perhaps we could go with Isabela to Starkhaven when she sails. Her trip isn't meant to be a long one."

Hawke took a deep breath and leaned against him. She asked herself if she really cared. The answer was, she didn't. They were joined. What did it matter how it was done? The two of them were hardly suited to a pompous display. In fact, if she were honest, she was glad to have escaped any kind of fuss. There were more important things they could both be doing. Like celebrating. Just the two of them. At home. In bed. For as long as she could keep him there.

She looked up at him, bright eyed and a devious smile spread across her face. "No traveling. Just celebrating. And just us."

Fenris took her meaning and lowered his mouth to hers in a hungry kiss. Then they hurried home, but the return trip took significantly longer. Every few steps one of them was pulling the other into more kisses and touches. Even in the darkness they were shameless and those few people they passed on the streets this time did stop to stare but little did the couple care. They were, after all, newly married and they were acting like it. Hawke was reminded of the last time she kissed him so openly in the streets. It was more of a dare than anything else at the time and he had been mortified. Now he couldn't seem to stop himself.

When they finally stumbled through their own door, they were still locked at the lips. Hawke mumbled out, "Finally!"

Fenris picked her up in one swoop and was about to run headlong upstairs with her in tow. About to. Until he was stopped by Varric and Isabela, who were casually blocking their path.

Fenris swore and put Hawke back down on her feet. She was equally frustrated and didn't bother to hide it. "Out." She commanded to her friends. "Now." There was no sense standing on ceremony. They would understand.

Varric held up his hands. "Don't worry Hawke, we're not staying. We just wanted to be the first to offer our congratulations to the happy couple."

"Speak for yourself, Varric." Isabela piped up. "I came to see if they wanted any help celebrating."

Isabela's relentlessness aside, Hawke was touched. "Thank you both so much," she said warmly. "Now get out."

"Fine, fine." Varric started walking towards the door, with Isabela reluctantly following. "Aren't you even curious how we knew?"

"Nope." Hawke replied and started walking upstairs.

Fenris didn't follow. He turned his head to Varric. "The two of you had a bet, didn't you?"

Varric stopped. "You're catching on Broody. We'll make you one of us yet. I won, by the way. Your patience fails you when it comes to our Hawke. You should try to be a little less obvious about that in the future."

Isabela winked when she passed him. "Don't listen to him sweet thing. I may have lost the bet, but I'm glad I did. You two have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Hawke smiled and watched her friends leave. She looked at Fenris. "There was a challenge in that, you know. There isn't anything Isabela doesn't do. Which means I intend to do everything with you." She giggled as she ran up the stairs with Fenris following eagerly behind.


	72. Epilogue 2-Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift for KillJoys, (and a big thank you!) who is one of the lovely readers who has followed this story and offered wonderful comments. The request was for Fenris playing a lute to his unborn child. I do so love fluff, but I'm also very picky about Fenris. I wanted to let him keep his edge while still doing this very tender thing. I hope it worked. Thanks for reading! Happy New Year to all!

Fenris lifted his head from the blade he was sharpening when Marian entered the room. She huffed and sighed as she eased herself down onto a chair across from him. She looked irritated. And he secretly loved it. The corner of his mouth turned up just slightly into a satisfied smile.

Her small frame was overpowered by the large round belly she carried in front of her. She was heavily pregnant and Fenris found everything about it fascinating and wonderful. Marian thought somewhat differently by now. She repositioned and breathed heavily trying to settle into her seat. In bed, she had recently taken to sleeping sitting up but it seemed that position was now becoming uncomfortable as well.

Fenris's smile grew.

He resisted the urge to go over and feel for his son's little movements inside her. His son. Varania seemed certain it was a boy, and a mage as well. Pride swelled inside him. Fenris hid his grin by lowering his head back down to the task of pulling the whetstone slowly across his sword.

Marian accused him recently of 'hovering.' He couldn't help it really, and he had no intention of changing his behavior. She was a prize he had won. She was territory he had claimed. She was a mountain he had...

"Enough! Fenris, Enough!"

He was snapped from his self-indulgent reverie.

"Enough with the grinning and the chest puffing and the...everything! Maker! Men! You know, Renna said Antonius was the same way."

"I was not aware that you've spent time with Renna and had such discussions." Fenris couldn't quite picture his Hawke in a sitting room 'entertaining' like some pampered noble, no matter how awkward it was getting for her to be active.

"Sometimes she comes here to chat. She brings the baby." Marian shrugged. "I think it's good for her. If it were up to Antonius, he'd never let them off the estate. He is overly protective."

Fenris wasn't sure if he liked the idea of Antonius's lover and only child sneaking off alone to wander in a dangerous city without protection. Especially when Fenris had sworn to protect them as he would his own family.

"I don't think Antonius would approve of her going out onto the streets without escort." He said sternly.

Hawke shrugged again. But this time the motion seemed to have a challenge in it when she said boldly, "Sometimes, I go to visit her."

She knew that bit of information would irritate him. She knew he was none too happy these days when she ventured outside the protection of either their home or his arms. "I don't think I approve of you going out onto the streets without escort." He replied as he narrowed his eyes at her. "You can hardly defend yourself in the way you are accustomed right now."

"Don't change the subject! We were discussing how annoying your maleness has gotten."

Fenris rolled his eyes. He could address keeping better tabs on his wife later. "You cannot compare me to Antonius in this regard. It is a natural thing for him to feel pride. He is the Archon. I was a slave. It is different."

Marian threw her head back and moaned. "Unnnhh! I'm so hot!"

Talk about changing the subject. "You always say that." Fenris leaned back over his sword.

"I really mean it now. Now I'm fat and hot. It's different." She said in mockery of his own argument.

"You are not fat. You carry my child. It's different." He countered.

"And there it is again! Male pride." She pushed herself out of the chair with some effort and stalked out of the room; as much as she could manage stalking. "Insufferable!"

Fenris smiled broadly at her back as she left.

xxxx

Fenris set aside his greatsword a while later when he was finished caring for the blade. He rose and thought to check on Marian, but his sister intercepted him. She shoved a lute at him while looking angry. Her face seemed like she meant to shove a weapon at him and not a musical instrument. He just raised an eyebrow at her.

"Here. You need a hobby." She said curtly.

"What?" His upper lip curled in disgust and a little confusion as he looked down at the lute.

"You need a hobby that isn't hovering after and annoying the void out of your pregnant wife. And all the rest of us." She added under her breath.

"Don't be ridiculous. I do not need a 'hobby' and I intend to continue to do as I please." He said dismissively as he tried to walk past Varania.

She repositioned to impede him again. "In addition to keeping you occupied, learning to play serves another purpose. Handling a babe is not like wielding a greatsword. You can't 'fight' them into submission, and there is no guarantee that the child will be as accepting of your brutish protective streak the same way Hawke is. She might complain, but she lets you have your way far too much. Children rebel on instinct, you need to exercise a more delicate means of interaction. It will come to Hawke naturally as it does to all mothers. You, on the other hand," she eyed him skeptically, "will need to learn otherwise. Best start now. It was either this or teach you to sew. Your choice." And she held out the lute again.

Fenris wasn't sure he appreciated being spoken to in this manner. Unfortunately, he heard Marian's voice in the back of his head repeating what she had tried to tell him many times, that he and Varania were far more alike than either would admit to. His sister might have taken longer to start exercising her freedom but now that she was, he couldn't deny their similarities. He wondered if Merrill had to put up with half as much stubborn pride as he made Marian suffer through.

Fenris took the lute and then stormed past Varania without another word.

xxxx

Learning went slowly at first. He recalled he picked up reading more quickly. But he had had Marian's assistance with that and her special motivational tactics. Varania was obviously a less encouraging instructor, so after only two official lessons, he dismissed her services in favor of muddling through himself.

Eventually, hesistant plucking started to give way to smooth melodies. He would not be defeated by a damn lute afterall. He did notice that Marian seemed more at ease when he was occupied with the instrument than when he had been occupying himself entirely with her protruding midsection. Interestingly he also found the task of learning and playing relaxed him. And it was a different sort of oddly quiet relaxation compared to the release he found in swordplay, or in making love to Marian, or even in drinking wine. He liked it. So he chose to ignore the smug 'I told you so' looks Varania gave him whenever she found him practicing. To her credit, she avoided actually saying 'I told you so' and he respected that. He was certain he would not have afforded her the same consideration.

It was with lute in hand that he found himself one evening sitting before the small glow of a muted fire in their bedroom with Marian trying in vain to get comfortable enough to rest.

He stopped playing when she growled out her frustration. "Would you like to just sit with me for a while?" He offered. "It has helped you before to rest against me."

"It's not me this time, love, it's him," and she pointed to her belly. "He's kicking like mad and I'm not sure how to sit to make him more comfortable. Maybe he's running out of space in there, or maybe he prefers it when I walk around. I just don't know what he wants tonight."

Fenris rose and joined her on the bed. He helped her ease into a position on her side and then sat next to her, as close as he could get. "Just rest. Let me try."

He had caught Marian more than once when she thought no one was listening, singing to the babe inside her. She would never admit that she was doing it afterwards, but he knew better. He decided he was not so proud anymore to prevent him from doing the same, so he started to play.

The song was very quiet and slow. It was one she had sung to him many times before. His deep voice was nearly a whisper when he started to sing along with his strumming. She closed her eyes and smiled, but said nothing. It was a far cry from the bloody killing and battle shouts he was more accustomed to, but he continued as best he could, his hands and voice surprisingly eager to learn this more tender skill.

When the song was finished, he leaned in to rest his hand over top of where his son lay inside the woman he loved. He seemed quiet and calm, and Marian's deep and even breaths were a welcome sign that she had also drifted into the Fade.

Fenris set aside the lute and settled in next to her. As he felt the Fade start to pull on his senses as well, he decided he would have to swallow more of his pride and thank Varania in the morning.


End file.
